


Engines of Destruction

by Miles_to_Hastings



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Fluff and Angst, It works out okay (for the most part), Jaeger Academy, Miscommunication, Parent/Child Incest, Slow Build, Survivor Guilt, Sydney Shatterdome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 196,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miles_to_Hastings/pseuds/Miles_to_Hastings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For more than four years now Chuck has been waiting for the chance to fight a Kaiju. It doesn't matter that she's fifteen, that she's been banished to the wrong side of the continent, or that she hasn't spoken to her dad in longer than she likes to admit. She's waited long enough and nothing is going to stop her; not bureaucracy, not moral panic, not her own messed up head. <i>Nothing.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sidelines

All in all, it goes about as well as she expects.

One smashed glass and a couple of slammed doors later Chuck's out of the house, not looking back as she marches off down the street with Max at her heels. She shouldn't have said anything, of course she shouldn't, it wasn't like she'd even really _meant_ to anyway. If today hadn't been one of _those_ days, the _'if I'd had a choice it wouldn't have been you'_ days, she could've kept it in. But on top of the frustration and disappointment of earlier it had been too much.

Fuck's sake, she _knows_ , alright?

Without really thinking about it, she ends up where she usually does whenever the house gets impossible. The grass in front of the cheerfully beige bungalow is pretty beat-up, in some places completely worn away to expose large patches of reddish soil. Currently, there's only the old Ford pickup parked on the lawn, a slow week. The driveway, meanwhile, is occupied by a lime green '71 Charger and a yellow '68 Barracuda with a half-disassembled Kawasaki Ninja taking up up the rest. Crouched amidst the chaos, chewing the end of a pencil, Jack Anders looks up with a grin that he quickly corrects to a grimace.

'One of those, huh?'

She gives a terse nod, focus visibly shifting onto the machine.

'Yeah, just giving it a bit of a tuney,' he explains, accepting the dismissal without hesitation. Straightening up and dusting off his knees he steps aside; 'I'll go get the wax then.'

It's a familiar routine that they've established over the last four odd years, Chuck settling down to finish the work on the bike while Jack gets started on cleaning the Charger. Max plops himself down on the lawn and watches, tongue lolled out. Minutes tick by and slowly the tension starts to leave the teenager. Working on machines is always such a soothing process, it lets her block out the thoughts but at the same time results in something constructive. On days like this it's good to remind herself that she's perfectly capable of being useful.

Being stuck on the wrong side of the continent certainly doesn't help, though. Perth's pretty conveniently out of the way as far as coastal cities go, unlikely to ever so much as glimpse a Kaiju on the horizon. Sometimes it can seem like the place has forgotten that there's actually anything going on out there, as if the whole city has somehow got sucked back into the past. Course, then a fucking Kaiju worshipper turns up on a street corner, spouting shit about false prophets and embracing ordained destruction, and that right there's a nice big reminder that things'll never be the same as they once were, even here. Not that Chuck ever does forget, not for one second; she couldn't even if Gran would let her try.

Only when she's finally slotting the bodywork back into place over the engine does the older teenager clear his throat. Respite's up.

'So...' he drags the word out deliberately, filling up the pause before he follows through. 'What happened this time, hot-stuff? Threaten to run away and join the circus?'

'Something like that.' Chuck sucks in a breath, crossing her arms and leaning against the reassuring bulk of the bike. She makes sure that the words, when they come out, are level. 'I went to enlist.'

For a moment he's apparently rendered speechless, mouth open as he simply stares at her in disbelief, but it doesn't last long. 'You're _fifteen_!'

'I've noticed.' Everyone keeps saying her age like it's a dirty word, she's starting to get seriously sick of it.

Jack matches her defiant expression with reproach. 'Did you lie?'

' _No_.' As if. She'd never have gotten away with it, the perks of having the name she does. But they both know she probably would have if she could.

'And they didn't accept you?'

'Of course not.' It comes out just as bitterly as she doesn't want it to.

'Well thank fuck for that.' He merely shrugs in response to her glare. 'I'm sorry, but what'd you honestly expect? Yeah, you've got the pedigree and all, but-'

'It's just six months,' she grits out, arms reflexively crossing tighter. Same old losing argument.

' _Exactly_.' Jack seizes on the point, not with spite but with a fierce earnestness. 'Look, I know it's crap but you just need to give it a little longer; the Academy's not going anywhere, I promise.'

 _And neither is she_. It's all easy enough for him to say; it's been nearly two years since he did his stint in Alaska, he spends most of his time in a Shatterdome, he gets to _leave_.

'Whatever you say,' Chuck holds up her hands, abruptly tired of this whole thing. 'Forget I mentioned it.'

A slight frown crosses his features but he lets it go, mouth quirking into a smile instead. 'No worries.'

This is one of the things that had helped make them friends in the first place, knowing when to leave things alone and the way they can put any awkwardness between them aside so quickly. Joining Max on the grass she scratches between his ears and waits for Jack to finish up.

After a minute or so of scrubbing the far side of the Charger his head pops back up with a smirk. 'You know, maybe if you're lucky this time next year we'll be working together properly.'

She snorts. 'Not _quite_ what I had in mind.'

'Snob.' The wet sponge hits her square in the side of the face; Jack's no athlete but he's got the arms of someone who pulls apart tough machines for a living. He is also not the most mature seventeen-year-old in the world.

' _Prick_.' Soapy water begins to dribble down her neck as she lobs it right back at him, the disappointment successfully pushed to the back of her mind for a little while.

-

The lights are off when she gets back but that's no surprise. It's late, and Gran always turns in early after a bad day anyway. Jack had offered to let her crash on his aunt's sofa but she'd known better than to accept, if she's not here in the morning then it'll be assumed that she's gone running off to start hitchhiking her way to Alaska. In the long run it's rarely better to drag these things out, much as she might want to. Then they can just go straight back to ignoring it.

Ducking in through the back door she flicks on the switch and heads to the kitchen with a panting bulldog close at her heels. Chuck scoops up his bowl, tips out the old stuff and fills it from the tap, not too worried by the noise. Experience teaches that once Gran is actually down she's out for the count, nothing much short of a Kaiju ploughing through the neighbourhood is going to wake her up. Rather fortunate considering how long it often takes the girl to go to sleep herself, and how much restless activity she resorts to in the meantime.

Increasingly aware of the stickiness of her t-shirt she heads to her room to change, leaving Max to it. Tonight feels like it's going to be a long one.

She closes the door behind her and drags the curtains shut before turning on the light. It's nothing particularly unique or special, just a long, narrow box room with bare white walls and minimal furnishing. All that'd really changed when she moved in permanently were the sheets and the addition of her limited stuff. The dog bed had been added to one of the corners a few months after that, although Max has almost never used it except to store his toys.

Squeezing back past the desk Chuck pulls off the dirty top and drops it on the end of the bed. None of the stains have gone through so she just grabs another one at random and tugs it over her head, switching into a pair of trackies while she's at it. Fresh clothes make her feel less of a mess, plus sticking a load in the wash counts as some manner of productivity.

On the way past she lets Max out into the yard, returning to lean against the doorframe as the washing machine rattles to life. The sense of peace in the scene almost eclipses her returning frustration, almost. _Just six months._

Once he's finished, trotting back inside in search of something to chew on, Chuck's free to start wearing herself out for the night. Miraculously Gran's never tried to get rid of the old punching bag that hangs in the garage. It's one of the last things she'd expected the woman to continue to tolerate, given everything else that's no longer welcome in this house.

So she ties back her hair, wraps her hands and lays into it. _Six months is nothing_. What none of them seem to understand is that it's a fucking eternity to her. Chuck knows she'll go mad if she's stuck here much longer. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to just ditch, if only she could be sure that Gran wouldn't take it badly and try to get her dragged right back. That and there's exactly one place she wants to be – well, two if she's being honest with herself, but it's better not to think about that today. All she wants is to do _something_ , to just maybe prove that she was worth it.

It's not even like she doesn't have the skills necessary or anything. Everything they ask for she's got, except for a few extra months on her fucking birth certificate...

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

-

Max is barking and she realises that she's completely lost track, breath coming in pants as her muscles belatedly start to ache. The phone's ringing. Probably enough for tonight anyway, even if straining herself doesn't really seem to matter all that much anymore. At least she should be tired enough to sleep now... _The phone._

Cursing, she jogs for the receiver. A glance at the time has her automatically making the conversion, 2AM - 5AM in Sydney. One of those stupid lovesick habits she just can't cure herself of. But it's a local number on the display and she hates herself for the brief flare of hope she'd felt as it abruptly dies. Why does she ever expect differently?

'Do you _ever_ sleep?'

'The _fuck_ , Jack?' She raises her free hand to rub at her face, more tired than annoyed.

'I figured you might want to turn on the news.' There's a false nonchalance to his voice that tips her off instantly.

Keeping the phone pressed to her ear she grabs the remote, instantly turning the volume down to be on the safe side, and sinks down on the edge of the sofa.

It's a live feed, coming direct from one of the helicopters hovering above the action. Various lights sweep the dark waters below, the sun only barely above the horizon and painting the sky a murky purple-red. Coastline is visible in the near distance, a bay with rising hills on two sides that funnel towards a flat expanse at the centre. In the twilight the two Jaegers are clear enough, not least because at least two search lights are focused on each. A sea mist hangs over the area, somewhat reducing visibility so that there's no sign of the Kaiju that they are doubtless in pursuit of. However they're heading for the land at a decent pace, Vulcan Spectre pulling slightly ahead of Lucky Seven even as they fan out.

'...managed to break away following a number of brief but intense skirmishes around the ten-mile mark, slipping past the line of defence in an apparently successful bid to make land here in Wellington...'

'A slippery bugger, great.' She tunes out the reporter patter to focus instead on the picture, eyes lingering on Lucky.

'That seems to be its MO, hitting and running before anyone can get much damage in on it.' Jack's voice goes faint for a moment as he shifts, probably moving the phone from one ear to the other.

'It's gonna struggle to keep that up on land for long, even with the mist.' Kill number three, that'll be a new record.

'Yeah,' there's a practically audible shrug to his words, 'it's only a Cat-II, as soon as they get it cornered the bastard's dead.'

Things seem to be going well enough, the Jaegers converging on the airport where the Kaiju – codenamed Mawgrim – is apparently taking cover. It may have gotten to the coast but it's definitely on the run. From the sounds of it, Mawgrim won't be able to withstand much punishment once they get hold of it anyway. Simple enough. Nothing like Nagasaki last year, the double drop that got bumped up to a triple only minutes before a Cat-III bulldozed through Brawler Yukon. That hadn't been a good moment for the PPDC.

Max jumps up on the sofa next to her, Chuck stroking him absentmindedly as her attention remains fixed on one Jaeger in particular. She never says it but watching these make her feel that little bit closer to her dad. It's the best she can do these days.

From the sounds of it the reporter's running out of meaningful things to say, as minutes drag by with no obvious sign of the Kaiju – beyond a few smashed vehicles. '...Vulcan Spectre currently with a kill count of zero to Lucky Seven's two...'

What is it with these people and being compelled to be constantly saying something? Most people watching are going to know those stats.

'Who'll get the honours, d'you think?' Jack's commentary she can tolerate at least. He's always the one who tips her off after all.

'How is that even a question?' Chuck can't quite help the derisive edge to her voice as she scoffs. Lucky has this.

'I don't know, Vulcan's overdue...' Even if the technician is supposed to support his assigned Jaeger on principle she's sure he only really says it to get a rise out of her.

'And is piloted by relative pacifists.' Everyone knows it; Vulcan does back-up, that's about all. Not that they really need to do anything else, not when Dad's around to do all the heavy lifting.

'Just cause...'

Lucky stops moving, mid-step. Chuck catches it immediately and goes cold, stomach turning. _That's not right._ The Mark-1's gone so stock-still it's almost like it's just suddenly ceased working, like time has frozen, systems locked up in a way that _can't_ be intentional. ' _Shit_.'

Seconds later the reporter catches up. And the longer it lasts the more confused they get, realising that no, this probably isn't a sign that they've spotted Mawgrim and that something here is actually seriously off. Vulcan meanwhile is clearly still moving fine on the other side of the split screen.

'...not sure why Lucky Seven has ceased movement, perhaps a malfunction of some sort. Surely this can't be a repeat of events in Tokyo two years ago when...'

There's a scream as the stocky frame of Mawgrim abruptly charges into shot, launching itself at the unmoving Jaeger and colliding in a squeal of metal. The weight and momentum of the Kaiju has the mech falling back, even as it returns to life and brings both arms up in an attempt to push the writhing mass of muscle away. Massively elongated canines gouge into the torso as the vaguely feline-looking monster furiously tears at its target, lodging itself with teeth and claws. All Lucky is succeeding at doing is keeping it from getting at the Conn-Pod, unable to just get the thing off.

Fuck, it's doing a lot of damage.

The fear only gets worse as things devolve into a prolonged floor grapple, Lucky unable to get out from under the sabre-toothed Kaiju. Something's still off with the Jaeger, the motions more desperate, less focused than she's ever seen. They can't get any sort of damage in, too busy trying to minimise the amount being inflicted on them.

Chuck can't look away, horrific as the sight is. A dislocated sort of numbness is spreading through her. _If it keeps going like this it'll breach the reactor..._

Then with a screech the Kaiju is suddenly getting ripped away by its tail, Vulcan swinging it in an arc to bring it smashing violently down into the runway. A stream of blue blood splatters satisfyingly from its mouth. Straight back on its feet, Mawgrim rounds on the new arrival in a flurry only for them to neatly side-step and get a grip on the tail again. With seemingly little effort the Jaeger goes into a spin, pulling the Kaiju from the ground and twirling it round through three full rotations before hefting it higher to come down in another loud smash. The concrete splinters beneath the increasingly disorientated creature – acceptable collateral damage.

Lucky still manages to come in with the kill, though, mangled as it is, throwing back into the fight and ferociously laying into Mawgrim's skull until it cracks open. But, fuck, it looks bad. A number of puncture marks across the Jaeger's torso, left arm frayed, deep gouges exposing internal workings, sparks falling in a shower from a hole in its side; there's no question, it's _wrecked_. Damage on this scale isn't going to be worth repairing, not when there'll be a newer model to take its place before the year is out. End of the line. As soon as it's clear that the Kaiju isn't getting back up Lucky stops again, on purpose this time, as it powers down.

Breathing out heavily, a chorus of _please be okays_ running non-stop through her mind, Chuck finally manages to tear her eyes from the screen. The phone's on the floor but she has no memory of how it got down there. Fortunately, it seems she'd hung up some time between last speaking to Jack and dropping it. Twisting the receiver in her hands she focuses on trying to get rid of the tight knot of fear that's lodged itself in her stomach.

 _He could've died._ Hell, she still doesn't know that something's not majorly wrong. The reactor shields were updated on all the older models after the incident in Tokyo, it can't have been that. Some other sort of malfunction, must've been, a loose connector or something. But shit, all that damage. It's always felt like the safest place for her dad to be was in a Jaeger. Sure, there were faults, and Kaiju are still vicious buggers but he's too damn _good_ to be in danger.

As she waits through the post-battle follow-up, the playback, barely taking in any of the commentary, for some word on the state of Lucky's pilot(s) she thinks back to the last time she'd spoken to him. The last time she'd seen him in person rather than on TV or in an article. More than four years, how has it been that long? She misses him, so much more than she ever lets on. But it's better this way. That's what she has to keep telling herself, year after year. This way she can at least try to pretend that he can still stand the sight of her.

In the end, the most she gets is a brief glimpse in the background as one of Vulcan's pilots – a calm, quiet man with close-cropped black hair - steps forward to cover their departure with a few concise statements. _He's walking, that's something_. 'No major injuries have been sustained... Minor issue with hardware... Fully successful deployment... Not for me to comment upon... Thank you for your concern...'

Once the PPDC helicopters have departed she turns it off, sinking back into the sofa. To call this a bad day feels like a massively severe understatement. Grinding the heels of her hands into her closed eyes can't erase the images of Lucky going down. Yep, sleep is entirely beyond her now. Max whines, pushing himself onto her lap and reaching up to nose at her face. _Good dog._

Jack doesn't call back. Maybe he gets that she needs to deal with this alone, maybe he decided to turn in for the night, or maybe he just thinks it's a good idea to keep the line free. Not that anyone else is going to call, though, why would they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this is going to be a long haul of a fic. But stick with me, I promise it'll be worth it in the end.


	2. So Long

Three days later there's a call.

When it comes Chuck's out in the yard, playing catch with a much more enthusiastic Max. Since the Mawgrim nightmare she's been restless, even more so than before, struggling to find ways to occupy herself as she hopelessly waits for a call that'll never come. After all, it's not like anything's _really_ changed, just a fucking narrow scrape with a Kaiju and a malfunction that nobody's either willing or able to explain. The PPDC are being particularly hush-hush about the whole thing, which isn't exactly encouraging. Jack had been recalled to Sydney that day, but all he's been able to tell her is that it wasn't anything to do with radiation and that things seem kind of tense around the Dome.

It's all been irritating Gran to no end, her moping, and exacerbating the strained atmosphere in the house even further. That's why it comes as a bit of a surprise when the woman steps outside to wave at her, looking particularly disgruntled.

'Phone for you.'

Shit, the way her heart just _leaps_ to hear that, it's ridiculously pathetic and she knows it. Aiming for nonchalance – probably just Jack again, after all, nothing to get excited about – she lobs the ball for Max and heads over at a fast walk. Gran really doesn't seem all that happy about whoever's on the line, though, glowering as she passes the handset over.

Waiting until her grandmother is well on her way out of hearing range, Chuck raises the phone to her ear. 'Hello?'

'Am I speaking to Charlotte Hansen?' It's a female voice, with the clear and calm formality of someone who spends their days making dozens of calls like this, bugger.

She can't help wincing at the name, the one she'd stopped voluntarily using years ago, well before any Kaiju started crashing into cities. It's just not who she is, a bit more girly than she'd ever been comfortable with. Still, much as she hates it she has to respond to it, there's no point trying to correct a bureaucrat. 'Yeah, you are.'

'My name is Amanda Layton, I'm calling from the Pan Pacific Defence Corps.'

A cold chill goes down her spine accompanied by an unpleasant falling sensation in her stomach. This feels like bad news. What the hell is a PPDC admin calling her for? Is it Dad? Oh God, what's wrong with him?

Completely oblivious, Layton goes on; 'Our records indicate that you made an attempt to enlist for the Jaeger Program a few days ago, but were rejected on the grounds of age.'

So this isn't about him then? Relief floods through her system, right before her brain catches up to the words themselves. Shit, they'd better not be coming after her for trying to enrol young. It's not illegal, it'd only probably be illegal if she'd lied about her age and she hadn't. And it's not like she can be the only one who's tried either. Chuck is just opening her mouth to say as much when the admin barrels on again.

'Upon further reconsideration of the facts it has been decided that you are in fact eligible for immediate entry into the Program.'

Wait.

_What?_

Seriously? Where is _this_ coming from? What happened to the whole 'come back in six months and maybe then we'll talk' shtick?  
Chuck's sure she can't have heard that right, but then she catches sight of Gran scowling at her, or more specifically the phone, from the kitchen window. That _does_ explain the mood. Shit, the Academy actually wants her, her grandmother's going to get all kinds of pissed over this.

'The next induction will be starting the Monday after next; I understand that this is quite short notice, but would you still be interested in attending?'

Like that's even remotely a question. Well, yeah, she's going to have to argue this with Gran, but it's not like the woman's opinion is going to do anything to stop her. All the same, she can't help wondering what Dad might think about this; would he be indifferent, angry, proud? Who knows?

However, even as she accepts the offer there is one particular question that burns in her mind. She's not going to ask, never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, but it's bothering her. _Why?_ Why this random change of heart? What's so damn different all of a sudden?

 

-

 

Max is fast asleep when she leaves. It's almost a relief, to not have to walk away and close the door with him still trying to follow her. Leaving him behind sucks, it's without a doubt the worst thing about going and that includes the forty-odd hours she's about to spend in transit. Yeah, the Academy's obviously no place for a dog, but once she's finished it'll be different. Or so she hopes; according to Jack the closest thing to a pet in the Sydney Dome at least is the bonsai collection of one of Vulcan's pilots. Still, she shouldn't get too far ahead of herself, first things first.

Giving his fur one last ruffle for good measure, she swings her bag up onto her shoulder and doesn't look back. It's just before three in the morning, too early for anyone else on the street to be up, and the world outside is dark except for the headlights of the idling car. The sky's clear, moonless but full of stars. People don't look to those as much these days, not after the invaders did the crazy thing and popped out from under the sea instead.

Chuck can't help feeling a little like a fugitive, as she slides into the front seat and chances a quick look at Gran's expression. In the moments before the interior lights turn themselves off she takes in the furrows of tension and the way the woman's knuckles are going white as she grips the steering wheel. No happier about this than ever then. Honestly, she hadn't expected to be getting this lift, not after how long and hard her grandmother had railed against the idea. Still, it had been with ungracious resignation that it had been offered in the end. Perhaps with the intention of giving her a bit more time to change her mind, even though they both know full well that's never going to happen.

'You got everything?' The words are gritted out, with no attempt made to hide her disapproval.

'Yes.' She's checked for her passport at least five times today, half-afraid that Gran might actually have gone so far as to try hiding it.

From there the drive is a journey of uncomfortable silence, with the traces of all their previous arguments over this hanging in the air. Chuck just doesn't understand why she has to get such mixed messages, one moment the woman would rather she was dead and the next she doesn't want her going anywhere near a Kaiju. It's infuriating. She seriously wonders if Gran's genuinely trying to protect her or is just trying to deprive her of something she has spent years working towards. Don't get her wrong, there are days when Gran treats her with a restrained sort of affection, it's just that most others it's either impossible to tell or a definite simmering resentment instead. She tries, though, they both do, but it's a rare achievement when they manage to both be trying at the same time.

As she watches the streets slide past she's not sure when or if she'll see them again, not certain whether that's a good prospect or a bad one. More than that, though, Chuck remembers doing this drive in reverse, years ago on a bright autumn afternoon. Rather than looking out the window she'd spent the whole time watching Dad while trying not to look like that was what she was doing. Committing him to memory. Scared and upset and not wanting him to leave her but knowing that he needed to have some time apart. Because being around her was too painful. She didn't want to be left behind here but she also didn't want him to be unhappy and she had to be strong and- And, _shit_ , she hates that memory.

Maybe he'll never be able to forgive her, maybe she doesn't deserve that, but at least now she has her shot at some form of redemption. _Look forward, not back, you can't change the past._

By the time the car pulls up at the terminal her stomach has started writhing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. It's unreal but also far too real. All this time she's waited for this, but what if? What if it doesn't work out? What if they decide she's not good enough to make the cut? What if it's all for nothing? What else does she have?

Almost as if she can sense the moment of indecision, Gran shifts to look at her. 'It's not too late to change your mind.'

By way of response she gets out, driven almost as much by stubbornness as by her own resolution. If not this then nothing, it's as simple as that.

Bridge burned, that's the last thing either of them has to say to one another, Chuck fishing out her bags while her grandmother stares stonily at the road. It's no wonder that she turned out like she did when this sort of temper runs on both sides of the family. She slams the door a little harder than necessary and has barely stepped back onto the curb before the car is lurching off out of the concourse.

Fuck it, she hates goodbyes anyway.

 

-

 

Why of all places does the first stopover have to be in Sydney? Chuck spends the whole flight getting progressively antsier; the last time she was there half the city was in ruins and an irradiated Kaiju corpse had been dominating the skyline. Back before the Jaeger Program was anything but a faint concept. This feels increasingly like some sort of intrusion, like she shouldn't be coming anywhere near here without Herc's permission. It's making her feel sick.

'First time flying?' One of the flight attendants leans in slightly across the empty seat, with that same faux-friendly condescension they've all been directing at her since she got onboard. Unaccompanied minor; what a fucking joke, she's fifteen, not five.

'No.' She's really not in the mood to even entertain the thought of playing along.

Besides Chuck _has_ flown before, plenty of times, just none since... Anyway, she absolutely hates being treated with kiddy gloves like this. At least she won't have to worry about that at the Academy. As Jack had told her umpteen times during his whole 'are you really sure you're ready to do this' monologue they don't take it easy on anyone. He never really got why that didn't seem to put her off in the least.

Undeterred, the overly chirpy woman tries again. Have to give her marks for persistence if nothing else. 'Are you visiting someone special?'

Her jaw clenches, of all the stupid fucking things to ask... ' _No._ '

That seems to get the message across, the attendant retreating as she turns away and huddles further into her seat. Can't quite resist a final parting shot, though; 'Just remember to call if you need anything.'

Yeah, like _that's_ going to happen. Shit, she's got three more of these damn things to sit through. Less than four hours in and Chuck's about ready to start banging her head against something hard. This just better not turn out to be some kind of elaborate joke, or an administrative error, or any of the other unhappy, worst case scenario explanations she's come up with since getting the call.

Curiosity ultimately gets the better of her when the pilot announces their descent, shifting to look out the window in spite of the memories she's afraid it might stir up. It's kind of jarring, even though she knew perfectly well that it obviously wouldn't be the same. The city's rebuilt itself, is still rebuilding, and in quite a few places it's obvious that it's trying to go back to what it looked like before. Some of the scars of Scissure are still clear enough, though, the bones of the Kaiju just about visible in the distance, a permanent reminder. Thankfully the carcass remains too toxic for the local cultists to try taking up residence; she'll never understand how some people can look at these things with anything but hatred, anger or maybe fear. It's disgusting.

Part of her can't help still thinking of the place as home, though, even if it hasn't been anything of the sort for a long time. She hasn't really had a home for a while, not since Dad left her behind; Gran's was just a place where she lived.

The plane's wheels touch down on the runway and she's officially arrived, the unspoken boundary breached. It's just before one, local time, Chuck doesn't need the announcement to tell her that. She's still tetchy as hell, wanting to get out, get on the next plane and away from here as fast as she can. Even so, she waits for the rest of the flight to clear the overhead lockers and filter out before bothering to stand up. Slinging the duffel over her shoulder and pulling her baseball cap down over her face, she ignores the flight attendants as she heads off in search of some strong coffee. Her body clock's going to be completely messed up by the time she reaches Kodiak so why fight it?

It's a much bigger airport than Perth, a lot busier too, international traffic and all. She's not sure she likes it that way, having to shoulder her way past more than one gaggle of tourists on her way through. Tourism for countries on the rim has actually gone up since the Kaiju, them all suddenly being cheaper destinations on account of the potential proximity to a sudden battle zone. Places safe on the other side of the world, meanwhile, cost much more of a premium now. Even with the Jaegers manning the coastlines people are still willing to pay an awful lot to be that extra bit further away from the Breach.

Speaking of... It's hard not to spot the airport's obligatory last-minute souvenir shop, complete with a bizarre variety of Shatterdome-related items including cheap figures of Lucky and Vulcan. Jack had sent her a couple back when he first got stationed in Sydney, his weird way of saying 'wish you were here' or something. They even sell Kaiju for completion's sake, though fortunately there's no sign of Scissure or Mawgrim from here. Without entirely meaning to, Chuck's stopped and after a moment of deliberation, against her better judgement, she ducks in. Call it morbid curiosity, it's totally not like she has a bit of a collection going or anything, not at all.

As she moves towards the back of the shop she picks up the voice of the cashier; '... crying shame too, it's a real beaut of a Jaeger.'

Her ears instantly prick up at that, there's not exactly a wealth of possibilities as to what the guy's talking about. Casually loitering around a seriously questionable postcard rack – Kaiju Blue, _really_ , who sends a picture of _that_ to someone? - Chuck listens in, it's not like she's got all that much else to do with herself any time soon.

'I hear they're drafting in Shaolin Rogue as temporary cover. Good thing too, I certainly wouldn't trust those pansies in Vulcan Spectre to hold the coastline alone,' says the guy standing by the counter in a full-on business suit. What sort of person wears a suit on a Sunday?

The vendor shrugs, not committing to the disparagement. 'There'll be a permanent replacement along in no time. Rumour has it that production's moving up mark now, and a Mark-5's gotta be better than a Mark-1.'

Yeah, she's heard as much. Makes sense, just as soon as that last Mark-4 rolls off the line in two months' time. Word is they're planning to go fully digital this time, even cleaner than the gas-guzzling Mark-4s. Exciting stuff, if the rumours are to be believed.

'Depends who's piloting it, don't you think?' Suit scoffs, and she's liking him even less with every passing second. _I'd like to see you try to hold off a Kaiju._

'Point, but I'm sure we know who'll be on the short list. If it ain't broke don't fix it.' 

_No shit, Sherlock._

'Yeah, but after that last performance, I'm inclined to think that maybe something's broken there. Problem might not be with the Jaeger, you know.'

Whipping fully round, Chuck glares daggers at the back of the obnoxious guy's head; the _fuck_ does he think he knows? _That's my dad, you piece of shit, shut the hell up._

Her hands have clenched convulsively and she has to take a moment to just breathe. Not worth it, seriously not worth it. _Just walk away, it won't make you feel better._ Well, it will, but that's not the point. Oh well, it's not like there's anything interesting in this place anyway – replica Kaiju bones, seriously?

Now, much as she feels like she could do with something a damn sight stronger, to go find some decent coffee and keep wishing this stupid journey was over and done with already.

 

-

 

Two more flights pass in a blur and before she knows it she's standing in a pretty much dead terminal in Anchorage. It's early morning, which means mid to late evening back in Australia, and it's freezing, _literally_. There's snow drifts piled up against the windows, ridiculously white and glaring under the floodlights. As Chuck looks out at the dismal landscape, shivering under her jacket, the only small consolation she can think of is that Kodiak is south of here so at least there's a _chance_ the place won't be so damn cold. Winter. Fuck. How does anyone live with these temperatures?

Wandering back up to the departure lounge – completing her third circuit since getting here – she tries not to think too much about tomorrow. Well, technically that'd be today now, thanks to the screwy time zones. Kind of hard though when the benches nearest the gate are occupied with a couple of sleeping guys, probably in their twenties, who she's pretty sure must be here for the Academy. They certainly look the type. Besides, Kodiak's a small place, why else would anyone be heading out there at this ungodly hour? Unable to avoid it, she ends up clocking every other possible passenger she passes, taking stock of the potential competition.

Oh, she's not intimidated by any of them, not in the least. If anything's going to get in her way it's not going to be another candidate, it'll be her fucking age. Or maybe just her brain. As much as she's thought about getting into a Jaeger all this time she's always kind of mentally skimmed over the whole Drifting thing. One step at a time and all that. But honestly the idea of having to share her head kind of worries her, that and she has this terrible suspicion that her mind just isn't the kind that'd meld well with others. Any other obstacle she could get past, with enough time and persistence, she knows it, but her own brain? There's absolutely nothing she can do if that's not up to the task.

Only a small percentage of people are actually even capable of Drifting. What if that's one thing her dad didn't pass on to her?

And still, as Chuck paces the quiet halls of the terminal and waits for her final stopover to time out, that one pressing question continues to burn in her mind; why? The Academy doesn't do pity, it's a military operation, not a charity. So what gives? Just what game is it that they're playing here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transition chapters are always such... fun, I know. Chuck's not a particularly big fan of them either. But, like long-haul flights, they're also a bit of a painful necessity. What this does mean though is that next time we're going to the Academy...
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say that I really appreciated the positive response from you guys, it made my day to know that I'm not just going to be writing this for myself anymore.


	3. Never Easy

The weather in Kodiak is no better. Even though the sun should be rising right about now there's not much evidence of it. All dawn basically seems to mean is that the dark clouds overhead are turning a slightly lighter shade. There's a strong wind blowing in from the sea, battering the place with a constant stream of freezing air. At the end of the runway that cuts through the site is a rather dramatic sheer drop into the choppy grey waters of the Pacific, and she wonders how many extra degrees the altitude has taken off the temperature. Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, Chuck tries not to let onto her discomfort. Bits of snow are flurrying around in the air, sticking to her clothes and - somehow - instantly melting. Why does everyone make such a fuss about the stuff? It's a complete nuisance.

Not keen to start things off with a cold, she ducks her head and hurries across the tarmac along with the majority of the disembarked group. What limited impression she gets of the Academy itself is a mass of grey concrete, a bit of glass, and some serious height. It's a pretty imposing looking place. The main door alone is majorly oversized, reaching to the ceiling and so letting in a serious blast of cold air along with them. In spite of that, Chuck still sticks near the back, staying out of the way and hopefully off the radar while she can. It's definitely an interesting assortment, though she does wonder how many others will be joining them later. Recruitment figures had understandably dropped after the Kuzira incident and the undeniable fact is that there just aren't masses of vacancies in the PPDC these days. It's very much a stay for life deal. Not everyone signs up to pilot a Jaeger either.

Their guide, a pretty nondescript guy in the standard blue uniform whose name she's already forgotten, comes to a halt up ahead under a large mural of the Pan Pacific crest. Waiting a moment for everyone to stop, he announces; 'Welcome to the PPDC Jaeger Academy. You will receive a more extensive briefing from the Marshal at 1100 hours when the rest of your cohort has arrived at the facility. In the meantime, I will be giving you a brief tour of the main living area and you'll then have a chance to settle into your quarters. This is a tough ship, so I'd advise you to make the most of the rest while you can.'

Giving his audience a quick sweep, the officer nods and moves off, not particularly waiting for the group to follow. It quickly turns into a sort of uneven line trailing after him, the pre-made pairs sticking together and nobody really interacting with anyone new. Probably a mixture of tiredness and the greater interest of the facility itself to blame for that, though it's not like they aren't all going to be spending most of the next eight weeks together after all. The only real exception to that seems to be a bouncy guy, with an accent she can't quite place, who is busy trying to talk the ear off a blonde girl whose entire body language is currently screaming to be left alone. As might be expected, the ratio is slightly skewed toward male over female, while age seems to tend towards the younger end for the most part.

Ultimately they don't really see all that much on the so-called tour, only briefly stopping by to have the mess hall pointed out on their beeline to the barracks. Being the freshest crop of recruits they naturally end up with the rooms furthest from the main facilities. It's a grey corridor, surprise surprise, with absolutely no windows – or exterior walls, she guesses. At one end there's some sort of common room, and a pair of communal shower rooms, strictly gender-specific, but everything else is co-ed, including the quarters themselves.

The officer whips out a list on their tablet and wastes no time in pointing people to their billets, handing out ID-key-cards with little interest. One or two of the solo arrivals end up alone, for now, while the others get paired up seemingly at random. Only when they arrived together do different sexes share, which isn't too surprising, but still a bit of a relief. Halfway through he pauses, right about where her own name should be alphabetically, glancing up quickly before skipping onto the next names.

Getting left until last isn't entirely comfortable, Chuck being quite aware of the way a few of the other cadets size her up as they move past, noticing her properly for the first time. Just what she'd wanted to avoid. She has a feeling that the list must have her age on it, or at least some sort of indicator that conspicuously marks her out. Once the final pair – bulky Russian twins who seem to have no concept of the cold – have gone off to their room the guide waves her over, specifically showing her to her door.

'This is you, Hansen. Looks like your roommate is on the next flight; that'll be getting here in about two hours.' As he holds out the key-card he gives her a scrutinising look. 'I hope you know what you're doing.'

He doesn't seem to expect a response, and she has no intention of dignifying that comment with an answer. Not wanting to hang around any longer, she gets the door open and promptly retreats into the privacy beyond. It shuts behind her with a satisfying clunk of metal and the teenager practically sags with relief. Dropping her bags, she leans back into it, breathing deeply and taking comfort in its definite solidarity and the thought of _finally_. This is the first time she's been properly alone in nearly two days and it feels like so much longer. But she's here, actually here, and nobody's turned around and told her to leave. Yet, anyway.

Eventually, though, she does have to move in order to turn the light on. There's a flicker as it heats up before washing the space in a yellowish glow, which only makes it all look slightly less grey. Well, grey and khaki. Directly opposite the entrance is a second door, leading to the toilet most likely. On either side of the room is a single bed – not stacked bunks, awesome, that makes things easier – which is slightly recessed into the wall. At the far end are full-height lockers, though she's pretty sure nobody around here's going to be needing to hang up any ball gowns, and at this end is a narrow desk each. Floor's concrete, which doesn't exactly do much to help the whole temperature situation. _Cosy._ Honestly, she's kind of glad it's interior, that way at least the rest of the building is sort of insulating it a bit more.

After a brief second of indecision, Chuck scoops up her stuff and moves it to the bed on the right. Hopefully her incoming roommate won't object too much to her choice, she just prefers sleeping on that side is all. If it's a massive issue she'll move, although right now she really wants nothing more than to just lie down. Flopping back on the khaki sheet, she closes her eyes and tries to work out just what time her body thinks it is. Alaska must be... what, seventeen hours behind Perth? Which means it'll be twenty behind Sydney.

With a noise of disgust she pulls out the pillow to press it down onto her face. _Don't start._ But... She just wishes she knew what was going on. What is he going to do now that Lucky's out of commission? Obviously it's not like she could think of a better person to give the first Mark-5, just... Something isn't right, whatever happened in Wellington is bigger than they're letting on, she knows it. Maybe it's not radiation, but that doesn't mean there isn't something really wrong. He'd just better be okay. Even if that's all the reassurance she ever gets, that'd be enough.

-

A loud creak of moving metal has her jerking up and back to attention. Shit, must have dozed off. Her newly-arrived roommate gives Chuck only a brief look before moving over to the other bed. She's tall and doesn't look any the worse for travel, with glossy black hair done up in an elaborate-looking braid and olive skin – the woman could be a model. Doesn't exactly seem the Kaiju-fighting type, but then again a lot of the pilots tend to be lookers. Not really a bad thing for the PPDC, it certainly makes that whole PR side of things easier for them.

'You are?'

Well, fuck, she's blunt. 'Chuck, Hansen.'

The woman gives a tiny nod in acknowledgement. 'Anaïs Guérin.'

And that's apparently all the talking she intends to do, as she turns her back and immediately sets about unpacking in silence. Chuck's not entirely sure whether taciturn is the better trait to have in a roommate, but at least this means no questions. She can quite happily live with someone who all but ignores her existence. This might not be so bad.

Taking her cue from the other cadet she gets up, straightening the bed back up to military standard before pulling open her main bag. Nothing looks too creased. Probably not enough thick layers, though, even if it's going to be turning to spring here soon she doesn't hold out much hope of it ever getting anywhere near hot. Her guess is that it'll only ever be chilly at best, that Alaskan wind is going to be a killer. Still, they're all going to be practically living in uniform after today, so it's not like a small wardrobe is that much of a problem. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't take the first opportunity for a surreptitious glance at Anaïs' locker to check for any full-length dresses.

Limited toiletries stashed in the bathroom – an en suite shower, she is unspeakably glad to see – she comes to the bottom of her hand-luggage. One of Max's old tennis balls is tucked into a corner of the bag, she'd needed to bring at least something of him with her. Still, best to keep that stashed out of the way, wouldn't want the doggy smell to fade. Which just leaves a bundle of clippings that she'd packed first, retrieved from their place at the bottom of her dresser. Those definitely aren't going to be sitting out on display either, not a chance. She shouldn't really have brought them, although chances are that Gran would have rooted the collection out within a week and promptly disposed of it. Some of these pieces are actually pretty rare, it'd've been a real waste. Besides, even if she doesn't look it feels better to at least have the option there. But... 

She needs to grow up, get a grip, stop holding onto it, _let go of this stupid damn fixation._

A little more violently than necessary she throws the mostly empty bag into the bottom of her locker, only narrowly resisting the urge to slam the door after it. _Don't think about him._ If Chuck spends all her time worrying about Herc then she'll never get anywhere. She has to focus if she wants to stand a chance here, even if that's easier said than done. Fuck, she's a pathetic mess.

Completely unawares, the quiet roommate is still arranging things on her side of the room so she checks the clock – 10:15 – and drops back onto her bed to wait. After everything this feels almost like an anticlimax, it's too quiet, too relaxed. Although she knows that this lull won't last long, Chuck finds it impossible to savour.

Thanks to the convention of sharing a room, however, Anaïs ends up basically walking with her when the time does come and the corridor empties to head for the appointed address. They still don't talk, and by unspoken agreement don't actually stay that close to each other, meandering along at the same pace as if by accident. Similarly once in the auditorium, they stand enough apart to make it clear that they aren't really there together. This is a system she could definitely get used to.

It's not a massive crowd that's assembled for the address, leaving plenty of room for spreading out and assessing the competition. A few older hopefuls have shown up, but there's a definite majority of those around the twenties mark. The chatterbox from earlier is still doing his best to annoy the crap out of his nearest neighbour, much to the apparent amusement of a nearby Asian couple who are holding hands and whispering comments to each other.

Getting the discomforting feeling that she's being watched, Chuck glances around and catches the contemptuous look being directed at her by a tall guy with a nasty smile – she can't make out his ID from over here and she doesn't really care. Glaring right back, she waits for him to look away first; he does, but only to turn and mutter something to the guy next to him prompting a loud, ugly laugh. _Oh, joy._

Dead on time a general hush falls over the room, with all attention turning to the front as Marshal Pentecost makes his appearance. It'd be very surprising if there was anyone in this room who didn't recognise the man, as synonymous as he is with the Jaeger Program. Retired pilots are a rarity as it is, but there's still only one person who's ever bagged a kill on their own. He'd be pretty imposing on presence alone, so add in the reputation and it's easy to see why the quiet is so total before he even goes to say a word.

He pauses for a long moment upon reaching the podium, looking out and surveying the crop. 'Don't make the mistake of thinking that this process will be easy. Very few of you, if any, are going to get into a Conn-Pod. Only those who have what it takes, who do not break, will have that opportunity. Everything we do here is designed to push you to your limits and then push you even further. Nothing less than your everything will be enough to see you through this program.

'This is no game and it is not all glory, remember that, but for those select few who rise above the challenges there can be greatness. Make it through, prove yourselves capable and you will have your chance to go down in history, to strike back at the monsters that would try to crush us all.'

Someone claps, which quickly spreads through the room in spite of the way at least a few people now look significantly less sure of themselves. After a minute the Marshal holds up a hand, gets silence pretty damn quickly too, and promptly announces them all dismissed for lunch.

The auditorium empties at a surprisingly rapid pace, people keen to get to the mess for the first proper meal of non-plane food many of them will have had in the last day. It helps that PPDC rations are supposed to be choicer, it's most important to keep the front-lines running properly after all. There's an obvious increase in the general degree of mingling and consequently talking too, the ice more thoroughly broken by the speech and the ID badges that everyone is now wearing. Anais, however, has already given up the pretence of not quite sticking together and made herself scarce, but that doesn't bother Chuck. She didn't come here to make friends. Well, yeah, she's going to need a co-pilot but that's a bridge that'll be crossed only when it has to.

Hanging back, Chuck ends up being pretty much the last person out of the door and shoots a look back at the podium as she goes. That damned why is plaguing her again. Chances are that the Marshal has something to do with her being here, it's his opinion that carries all the weight after all. Do they want to break her early, keep her from coming back when they think she might really be ready and so permanently out of a Jaeger? Could this be intended as some sort of twisted lesson? But why, what would they have to gain from that? There has to be something she's missing...

 _Ugh._ If she gets through this whole thing someone is going to have to give her an answer to that.

Turning a corner, she only narrowly avoids colliding with a body that has planted itself firmly in her way. Stepping quickly back, she finds herself faced with six-foot-four of open hostility. _Oh boy, the starer._ He's standard athletic military mould, nothing special but clearly happens to think that the sun shines out his ass. Inevitable that there'd be at least one of them on this program. The name on his ID reads Malcolm Ward and it's obvious that they're going to having a problem. A permanent one.

'Well, what _do_ we have here then?' He sneers down his nose, expression becoming even more unpleasant. 'A little bit lost, aren't you?'

'No, not really.' She's still too worn out right now to bother with this sort of shit and moves to step around him. _Just stay out of trouble, this isn't what you're here for._

Ward expects that though and unwisely decides to get straight back into her way. 'Sounds like you're a long way from home, pipsqueak. So, how'd a squirt like you end up here then?'

'The same way I imagine you did, dipshit.' Chuck doesn't want this to escalate, not on her first damn day. But there's only so long that she can make herself take the high road.

His arm shoots out to block her this time, unable to take the hint and let go of what he seems to think is easy prey. 'Oh, _attitude._ That sort of thing might get you in trouble, girly.'

'Keep this shit up and you're going to be the one in trouble.' She can feel her temper flaring, jaw clenching as she makes a valiant effort to think back and manage the anger.

He snorts, looking her up and down derisively, 'Oh, I seriously doubt that. Unless you're planning on running to whoever it was whose dick you sucked to get here.'

Her fist connects with a satisfying thump, the arrogant dick doesn't even see it coming. The way he crumples from the shot gives her another spike of vindictive pleasure as the blind moment of rage starts to fade. Besides, it's not really like there was any other way of getting the message through that thick skull.

_'Say that again and I'll rip yours off.'_

Shaking out her hand, she steps neatly around him, probably better to get out of here before anyone else turns up. Fights rarely go down at all well with authority figures, even if she has a perfectly justifiable reason for beating the crap out of the person. She has a feeling that here they'd probably skip the anger management route and just kick her straight out. So best to leave it rather than throw away her one chance at redemption for the sake of some wanker who'd just had to start throwing his weight around.

Of course, Chuck knows well enough that this isn't going to be the end of the matter. Although Ward definitely doesn't seem the type to go spreading around the fact that he got himself decked by a fifteen-year-old girl, he equally isn't the sort who'll just let go of a bruised ego. Less than twenty-four hours in and she's made herself an enemy. Guess some things never change. Then again, it's not like they aren't all in general competition with each other anyway. And she has no intention of letting _any_ of these people get in her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you know, another canon character has actually put in an appearance! Trust me, all the others will be cropping up in due time, but for now Chuck is busy not making some new friends. So really not much different there then.
> 
> Many thanks again for taking the time to read, and it's been really great hearing some of your thoughts so far.


	4. Bend, Don't Break

Surprisingly she sleeps fine that night, though that's probably thanks to the jet-lag more than anything else. Far as she can tell almost everyone else on the corridor turns in early as well, it being common knowledge that it's going to be pre-dawn starts from here on out. Still, Chuck gets the sense that nobody else here has spent quite as many hours in transit as she just has. Though oddly enough she turns out to be far from the groggiest at breakfast.

The mess is pretty busy, probably because this is the least flexible mealtime of the day, and there's a steady background noise generated by the multitude of conversations taking place. It looks like at least half the Academy is in here. A couple of tables have been left mostly empty, with only a handful of spaces spread amongst the rest of the room. There seems to be a degree of interest in the new arrivals, for some more than others. Chuck deliberately doesn't look around any more than she has to, if anyone is staring then ignoring them solves the problem easiest. 

Anaïs walks past, pointedly inclining her head in a definite follow-me gesture. It's a little unexpected; within a matter of hours they'd established a silent agreement on sticking to their own sides of the room and not bothering each other unnecessarily. This morning their only exchange had consisted of a quick consultation over who got to use the bathroom first. So Chuck's quite surprised to find that the older cadet specifically wants to sit together, she'd assumed it was going to be a matter of fending for oneself out here. Still, after a second of disbelief she follows her roommate and takes the seat next to her, at the end of the table. Of course, they go straight back to happily ignoring each other, the apparent duty discharged.

She can't say that she has much in the way of an appetite, stomach starting to do flips as the reality of being here really begins to sink in. It goes without saying that she's the youngest person here, by at least a good six months if not more, and from the looks of it she'd guess that most of the facility's occupants are already out of their teens anyway. No-one under seventeen as far as she can tell. That's not much of a surprise though. Brawler going down had been a definite wake-up call, and now there's this thing with Lucky, whatever it was... Jaegers just aren't quite as invincible as they used to seem. But all that really means is that she's going to have to beat out candidates with years and potentially experience on her. Because there's no doubt that this is a competition. Only a few can get in a Jaeger, only the best. Unfortunately she just happens to be a bit of a harder sell, especially without having a partner already in tow.

Pushing her food absently around the tray, she takes further stock of the room. Stragglers are still filtering in from the dorms, each looking scruffier or less with it than the last, most of them coming in alone. A few seats down the chatterbox is enthusiastically explaining... something to another less than receptive audience. Across the room, meanwhile, Ward is busy downing his second mug of coffee, sagging, clearly not a morning person.

He looks up at the wrong time, catching her eye and thrusting up a finger. Definitely not over that punch then. It won't be long before he gets up the guts for another go, she knows his type too well to think otherwise. No matter, Chuck doesn't doubt her ability to trounce the wanker again, except- Damn it, she's supposed to be on good behaviour here, putting the other side of those anger management lessons to use and all that. Oh, this is going to be _hard._

Ducking her head, resisting the urge to stoop to his level or maybe go one better, she decides to just focus on getting her food down. It's likely that they'll be needing all the energy they can get from now on, so if she concentrates on the motions it should be easier to ignore the other cadets. What matters here is the Program and seeing it through to the end, everything else is just incidental.

-

'Let's make this clear right now, in case any of you are having some confusion. Piloting a Jaeger isn't just about how hard you can punch, it's not about how many hits you can land in a minute, and it's not about how much weight you can bench press.' Although she is leaning against the edge of her desk in a deceptively casual manner, Instructor Meredith Mitchell has a no-nonsense expression on her face.

The screens behind the Canadian display a variety of schematics, blueprints and diagrams, but otherwise the lecture theatre is quite bare and utilitarian. For the most part, people have avoided bunching up, spreading out over the rows seemingly at random. Alertness, on the whole, has improved from breakfast but there's still a handful who look like they'd rather be back in bed right now. Whoever yawns first though will get it in the neck, judging by the keenly attentive way the woman is surveying the class.

'It's also about brain power, tactics, knowledge. It's about your capacity to fight. It's about how well you know your machine, and how well you understand your opponent. Yeah, there's a physical component, but unless you've got the right brain for it all the training in the world won't help you.'

Mitchell slams one palm down on the desk to emphasise the point, and possibly to correct the wandering attention of the later sleepers.

'Time is ticking, so let's get started.' She straightens up, then adds almost as an afterthought. 'Anyone who still thinks this is all just some meat-headed fight club can show themselves out.'

Unsurprisingly nobody moves; the instructor looks almost disappointed. As if to make up for it, she prowls restlessly along the rows and starts barking questions at whichever unfortunate cadet happens to catch her attention in the moment. It seems to be her way of getting to know names, and keeping everyone unquestionably alert.

'O'Brien!' It's the chatterbox who practically jumps out of his skin this time as Mitchell comes to a stop in front of him. He looks suitably cowed under her glare, honestly almost like he's about to piss himself in fear. 'How is a standard plasma shot charged?'

'Um. _By pushing a significant electrical current through a chamber of pressurised gas, creating a circuit which superheats the matter into a different state before being discharged in a directed burst._ ' He doesn't pause for breath, the rapid-fire sentence meshing to create the impression of a single elongated word, making it difficult to actually follow the answer.

'Correct, but _try_ to speak clearer next time.' Mitchell folds her hands behind her back and moves on, not catching the way in which her latest victim completely wilts in her wake.

At least the chances of her calling on anyone twice today appear fairly slim. And- Oh, _hell..._

'Hansen; a relation, I take it?' The instructor lowers her voice, tone less openly aggressive, but in the silence her voice carries clearly enough.

Chuck practically feels the way all of the eyes in the room promptly turn on her. Not the sort of question she'd been expecting, even though she probably should have seen this moment coming. Resisting the urge to sink lower into her seat, she answers as casually as she can manage. Pretend it's no big deal. 'That's right.'

There's definitely an increased murmur after that but then Mitchell raises a hand and it mostly hushes down. 'Yes, I can see the resemblance. But do you have the brains to back it up, I wonder? Which is the superior material for a Jaeger's armour, an alloy of steel or titanium?'

'Steel alloy.' She grits it out, digging her fingers into her palms as the image of Mawgrim's fangs tearing into Lucky shoves its way back to the front of her mind again. Was that _intentional?_

The instructor gives her the tiniest nod of acknowledgement and walks on without a word. Who wants to be liked when they can be feared, right? Well, Chuck's one real consolation is that she's not getting any particularly special treatment, Mitchell clearly just treats everyone like crap.

-

'Why is it we fight?'

There's a distinct hesitation that ripples through the class, uncertainty as to whether this is some sort of trick question or not. It's impossible to tell from the expression of Fight-master Chen Gang, his face being schooled into a blank mask. He stands at the centre of the kwoon, hands folded neatly behind his back as he patiently waits for an answer.

'Uh, isn't it obvious? To kill Kaiju, you know.'

'Hmm...' He fixes the speaker with a mild look. 'You emphasise the kill, and perhaps the perceived glory that comes with it. That is incorrect, an attitude no true warrior should have. The question remains; why do we fight?'

'To defend others, to save lives.' It's a somewhat bored tone that responds this time, apparently considering this the entirely obvious answer. The answerer is a blonde Swiss woman who is all business; chances are she's come here straight from the military, her entire demeanour screams it.

That earns something that looks close to approval. 'Good. It is a worthy thing to place oneself between danger and another, to attack only in defence.

'One of the first teachings imparted to me by my Sifu was this; one's purpose is not to fight, but to end confrontation by any means necessary, utilising only enough means to end confrontation, never more. To put it simpler, one should not fight merely for the sake of fighting. Many will say that such principles of Shaolin do not reflect the realities of this war we find ourselves in. They are incorrect.

'Today we begin simple. Before I can begin to instruct I must know what I am to work with.' Here he walks to one side and delicately picks up a hanbo, twirling it as if to test the balance before tucking it under one arm and padding back to the centre of the mats. 'Who is first?'

It's not entirely a surprise when Henry Lee leaps forward, not wanting anyone else to get ahead of him as he rushes to pick out a hanbo. Another teenager and another Ranger relative; of a retired Mark-2 pilot. He doesn't seem to have a particular chip on his shoulder, he's just eager. Which is a bit funny considering-

'Respect is of great importance. As such always begin and end spars with a mutual bow. The bow signifies readiness, but also respect for the opponent and respect for the art itself. Now...'

Turning to his first subject he leads the mutual bow, as a clear demonstration, but when he straightens the instructor launches immediately into motion, catching Henry off guard. Even so he manages to parry the first few swings of the hanbo, remaining on the back foot as the fight-master maintains a ferocious barrage. It doesn't last long though, as the over-keen cadet ends up on the floor in less than a minute with Chen's staff levelled calmly at his throat.

'Always be ready for the attack. Strive to act, not merely to react.' He addresses the room at large, before withdrawing the hanbo with a twirl. 'Next?'

The pattern doesn't much vary over the next hour. Some bouts last a lot longer than others, some are over in seconds. But every time Chen makes the point of bringing them to the ground. He's not just testing their abilities but offering a basic lesson, ensuring that they know failure. Nothing to be surprised by.

Subconsciously, Chuck lags towards the end of proceedings, quite content to stand back and watch, to get the measure of the others in the group before they get hers. In fact, she finds herself dead last entirely without meaning to, better to have gone somewhere closer to the middle than be the most memorable simply by virtue of timing. It probably makes it look like she's scared or something, hesitating. _Shit._

As soon as all this is established in her mind she wastes no time going to pick out her weapon, trying to be as quick as possible about it without compromising her selection. Don't bother with the audience, they aren't important. Clear mind, don't screw this up.

Under the full force of Chen's evaluating look she refuses to shrink and offers her bow with straight-backed formality, sharp and quick, well-practiced. She's already tensed to hit, although the instructor has been canny enough to vary the pace of his opening attacks throughout the session. This time he pauses, moves into a formal opening stance, waits. It's a lure, of course. Outthinking a Shaolin fight-master is beyond her, all she can do is try to put in a good showing before hitting the mats.

So she throws herself forward, feinting a swing for the side of his head which she quickly turns into a sweep at the legs. Chen anticipates that and dodges out of reach while bringing his hanbo round in a wide arc towards her ribcage. Twisting into the swing she blocks, the clack of wood on wood loud in her ears as they enter into a series of fast-paced strikes. It's not easy to keep up, to push back and assert offensive moves in between the rapid blocking, but that's the point. So is tiring her out, because there's no doubting that her stamina is nothing compared to that of the fight-master.

It honestly surprises Chuck as much as anyone when she feels one of her wilder hits actually connect, dealing a solid blow to the stomach. Shocked by the stroke of blind luck, she hesitates and an instant later has her legs taken out from under her, crashing inelegantly to the floor.

'Do not let your focus waver.'

He looks down at her with an unchanged expression of impassivity, giving no indication that he so much as noticed the hit. Might be a good thing, injuries to superiors seem like a good way to get booted.

Finished, she pushes herself up with as much dignity as she can muster and returns the closing bow. Chuck studiously ignores the rest of the room, keeping her head up as she leaves the mats. Her fall was no worse than anyone else's, she'd lasted longer than a fair few too. Nothing to be ashamed of.

Chen, meanwhile, appears entirely un-exhausted, looking no different than he had at the start of the session. Except for the slightest trace of a smile that has come to his face as he addresses the class at large. 'And now that we see what we have, tomorrow the real work can begin.'

A lot of people seem to be nursing bruises as the kwoon clears, mood seeming to range from exhilarated to despondent. The Marshal certainly wasn't kidding about them not going easy. If every day is like this then she's not going to have the time to even _think_ about- _Fuck._

-

Sleep doesn't come so easily that night. The day had been long and wearing enough, a good indication of what to expect for the rest of the trimester at least. But it was nowhere near tiring enough to counteract her building insomnia. It doesn't matter how long she spends lying back in her unfamiliar bunk and staring up at the featureless grey ceiling, unless she is absolutely bone-tired there's no chance of dislodging the block. At least the tossing and turning doesn't seem to bother her roommate, who had appeared to have been completely out for the count almost as soon as head touched pillow. Chuck just can't get comfortable enough to switch off; it's too cold, she misses Max – living hot-water bottle that he is – and her thoughts are too loud.

She's also used to sleeping in less, shorts rather than full-length bottoms. Maybe the need to stay near-fully dressed is another symptom of the problem, what's keeping her from relaxing. It's frustrating that she can't _do_ anything other than lie here. Usually these hours aren't wasted like this. Another downside to having a roommate who isn't a dog.

Without warning a loud, piercing wail kicks up that has Chuck instinctively rolling onto the floor. She knows a Kaiju alarm when she hears one.

'Putain! Merde!' A string of what she can only assume to be curses start pouring from the other bed. Anaïs is clearly a lot more sluggish, disorientated. She probably hasn't even heard one of these in her life, coming from Europe and all.

Of course the flimsy sheet has followed her off the bed, and Chuck has to waste a few seconds disentangling herself. Tonight of all nights, _really?_ She's at the door and pulling it open before her roommate has even touched feet to floor, but this isn't the time to be delaying on account of niceties. 

Light floods in from the corridor, near-blinding as she hurries out, immediately thankful that she'd happened to wear socks to bed. Not all the other doors are open yet, only a handful of cadets have beaten her out here, all of whom seem to have lost their urgency and are milling around, bleary-eyed. A glance towards the exit reveals the cross-armed figure of Instructor Mitchell and it clicks. Just a drill. Huh, well, it does break up the monotony of not sleeping. Judging by some of the other expressions on display she's pretty alone in that sentiment, even though all grumbling stays to a low, dissatisfied murmur.

Anaïs joins her on the steps, rubbing a hand at her eyes and mumbling more French profanities. However, her roommate regains her composure admirably quickly once she takes in the situation, grimacing only for a second before falling to a sort of attention. As the rooms empty and the corridor fills the complaints fall further in volume, even if a lot of faces remain visibly disgruntled.

'Alright, not bad, but not exactly impressive either. Far too many stragglers here for my liking. But don't worry, we'll cure you of that soon enough.' Mitchell's voice cuts clearly through the cold night air, uncontested, at least out loud. 'Now, as I hope you're all aware, Kaiju have no particular regard for the day-night cycle. An attack can come at any time and as such members of the PPDC should be capable of mobilising at a second's notice _at all hours_.'

It's fairly common sense but no doubt the practical nature of the lesson will make it all the better understood. She's half tempted to glance round and check for any deflating postures, but at this stage of the program it seems unlikely for there to still be such naïve cadets around.

'Jaeger teams are capable of deploying within seven minutes, that includes full suit-up and prep. We will expect no less of you, and in future I expect you all to be out here in less than a minute of the alarm sounding. The Kaiju drill will continue to take place over the course of your stay here _at random intervals_. Let's hope we get a better showing out of you all next time or we may just have to up the frequency. Dismissed.'

The instructor doesn't stick around, turning on her heel and disappearing back off, presumably, to her own room. Random night drills, should have guessed as much. Funny, Jack had never mentioned it – then again the Academy wasn't exactly a subject they'd spent all that much time on. Everybody disperses at speed, the grumbles increasing in the absence of the authority figure responsible for the disturbance. Chuck hesitates a little, half-considering not returning to the room and finding something else to do with the next few hours.

'I would rather not wait all night.'

With one hand on the door ready to swing it closed, Anaïs stands looking quite adamant and ready to kick up a serious fuss if she doesn't get a move on. On second thought, she probably should give sleep another try anyway, she's really going to need it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's one day down and... thirty-nine more to go for this first trimester. Don't worry though, we've got a lot of more interesting ground to cover later so I won't be detailing _all_ of those. Looks like poor Chuck's still not having entirely the best of times but, who knows, maybe next chapter she might finally catch a break?
> 
> Thanks for reading, you awesome people.


	5. Boiling Point

By the end of her second week Chuck thinks she's settled into things, able to relax just a little more now. So far it's been anything but easy, with every day much like the first as life falls into a pattern of hard work, long days and short nights. They haven't had another Kaiju drill yet, but she's still not sleeping quite right thanks to the cold. And that just makes her miss Max all the more, thinking how much better this would all be if she had the living hot water bottle with her. Not that she ever had the best sleep pattern in the world or anything. It'll sort itself out, it just makes things a bit more wearing is all.

Aching slightly from another session in the kwoon, and wanting to catch a quick shower before lunch, she returns to the corridor. As she goes to mount the steps to her door, however, she notices a distinct crowd building up in the common room and Henry Lee gesturing urgently at her. It can't be another attack, not this soon, surely? Curiosity, as always, gets the better of her; there'll be time to shower after.

Of course, it turns out that this was the exact opposite of what Henry had been going for. Shaking his head urgently he tries to block the door. 'I don't think that you want to-'

For all his aspirations the other cadet isn't really all that much of an obstacle, Chuck pushing past him before he can do much to stop her. Now she's _really_ determined to know just what the fuss is about; why would-

'...was confirmed this morning that PPDC Ranger Scott Hansen, co-pilot of the Jaeger Lucky Seven, is undergoing court martial action. The exact nature of the offence in question remains unknown, and at this time no-one within the PPDC was available to comment. This appears to be the final nail in the coffin for the Mark-1, after the recent technical fault which saw the Jaeger take severe damage during battle with the Category-II Kaiju known as Mawgrim.

'Australia's first Jaeger, Lucky Seven achieved a total of three Kaiju kills, and currently holds the highest success rate within the field.

'In other news...'

The room seems to have gone very still, or maybe that's just her. Chuck feels worryingly numb as she tries to process what she's just heard. Court martial. Right. That... explains some of it, she guesses. But what could Scott have done to warrant this? The PPDC don't exactly go around regularly court-martialing people, hell, this is the first time she's ever heard of them doing it. Must be serious. Shit.

'Well, now that _is_ interesting. You care to comment, pipsqueak?' Ward calls from other side of the room, lounged back and smirking at her.

Unclenching her hands from the fists they'd reflexively formed, she turns and leaves; right now that wanker is the last thing she needs. What she needs is to get out of here, to have space to just think...

So this is why there was all that hush-hush? Court martial; it's still not sinking in right. What the hell had Scott done? It must have been pretty serious to come to this, and it's not like she's entirely surprised to hear that he'd screwed up somehow but still. This has got to be really bad. And if it had anything to do with the freeze-up... had Dad found it out in the Drift, was that what had happened? Shit, it'd nearly gotten them both _killed._

Henry has trailed after her, not quite seeming to get the message that she might rather be left alone. Whatever he thinks they might have in common here, he's wrong. This is nothing remotely like what happened with his cousin. It's not like this is any of his business anyway, and why the fuck is this the first she's even hearing about this? Does she really mean that little to him?

'So spinelessness runs in the family too then, does it?'

 _Unbelievable._ Well, not really; it's not like Ward has ever been one to let go of anything or just take a hint. She doesn't want to give him the time of day, though, not right now. 'Bugger off.'

'Oh, so touchy. You know, if I didn't know better I'd say that you didn't see that coming.' His tone's bordering on gleeful as he catches up, circling round to plant himself in front of her.

Glaring, Chuck steps around him, purposely bumping a shoulder to emphasise the message. There is only so long she can hold the building turmoil in for, and she does not want to do this here.

For a brief moment it really does feel like she's actually gotten away with it, reaching her door without having to play a pointless game of dodge with the older cadet. If it were any other day, though, she would've known better than to even think that.

'You honestly _didn't,_ did you?' Ward laughs derisively, clearly enjoying this whole situation far too much. Any chance to get at her. 'Aw, is that why you're here then? Trying to become a Ranger so that Daddy will love you?'

Her grip clenches on the handle, knuckles going white as her entire body tenses up. Of all the times for him to suddenly develop perception. He's just hit one hell of a raw nerve and the bastard knows it. 'Don't. You. Dare.'

'What? I wouldn't worry, after today I'd say he's going to be as washed-up as that fucktard brother of his.'

No.

Before she can even try to think better of it her first punch is connecting solidly with his jaw. Today he's ready for it, though, having been geared up for a fight since he followed her out here. Ward barely staggers before he catches her across the face with a sharp backhand. The sound of the slap resounds loudly through the enclosed space, but the sting does nothing but spur her on.

Vaguely she's aware that at least half the common room has migrated out into the corridor to watch. Not that anyone tries to intervene, as the furious grapple intensifies, the momentum from Chuck's latest tackle sending them both crashing into the far wall.

It's pretty general knowledge that the two of them have it in for one another, but until now she's managed to keep it confined to the kwoon, with that one little exception. As vicious as they've ever got with the hanbos though, it's nothing to how they go for each other now. Because Chuck's not just fuelled by her hatred for him, as all the frustration and the pain of this whole mess has boiled over. While she was going to go and take it out on a punching bag Ward is actually a much more satisfying outlet.

And it's that which gives her the upper hand here. Sure, he's got the physical strength and muscle on her but right now she is on fire. Her rage doesn't exactly make for technically precise fighting but rough brawls were always her original style, and this time she doesn't particularly care that she's taking a few hits herself. She just wants to _punch his fucking skull in._

Her head snaps back from the force of a particularly strong hit and the next thing she knows someone's got her under the arms and is forcibly dragging her back. Snarling, she struggles to return to the fight because there's no way she's letting that wanker get the last shot in.

'What is going on here?'

Oh. _Shit._

Of all the people to walk in it just had to be the Marshal. His expression is as thunderous as she's ever seen it, and as the adrenaline starts to wash out of her system Chuck becomes painfully aware of what he's just witnessed. Fuck. So now she's going to get kicked out, just to top off this train-wreck of a day.

Chuck knows that she's gone red, at least that can't get worse, and as her breathing starts to calm down she feels the first trail of blood beginning to flow from her nose. It had better not be broken. Ward, meanwhile, is being restrained by his roommate, though not nearly as embarrassingly as she is with just a hand on his shoulder. From the looks of it he's at least going to come up with some nasty bruising, _good_ , and for a brief moment the satisfaction is almost worth it.

When she tries to shake herself free this time Henry lets her go without resistance. They both know she'd have to be completely crazy to do anything now that the Marshal's here. Dipping her head, she brings up a hand to try and stem the bleeding. This really isn't a good look to put on in front of the man in charge of deciding her future.

Naturally, Ward is quick to jump on this golden opportunity to throw her in it, as he rolls one shoulder with a scowl. 'The little shit attacked me!'

'You were provoking her!' Henry manages to get the objection in before she can even open her mouth.

Chuck frowns at him, although the effect is likely ruined by the whole bleeding thing. Funny, she doesn't remember them ever actually becoming friends or anything, though not from any lack of trying on his part.

'All I _did_ was ask a-'

'That's enough!' The Marshal holds up a hand for silence, not that he really needs to, before gesturing to her. 'Cadet Hansen, my office, now.'

_Shit._

'But-'

She shakes her head at the other cadet, ignoring the undeniably chuffed look that's already appeared on Ward's face and duly following her unhappy superior off to her fate. Now that it's over the fight's all rapidly draining out of her. Maybe she deserves this, maybe this was all just a futile exercise in the first place anyway. Once a mistake, always a mistake.

-

'Take a seat.'

Honestly, Chuck would rather not, this is already reminiscent of too many previous brushes with authority for her liking, but she's not stupid enough to try arguing with the Marshal over it. She is in enough trouble as it is without annoying him further. Besides, her nose hasn't quite stopped bleeding yet so it's probably better to sit down rather than risk getting woozy and keeling over.

Pentecost's office is pretty much what she'd have expected from the man. It's not like the Academy décor varies all that much anyway. Although it does turn out that he has one of the few rooms with a proper window, which looks out on the wooded slopes adjacent to the facility and clearly displays the distinctly un-springlike weather outside. She's not sure whether she imagines the fact that it's a bit colder in here or not, it might just be the mood. There is a slightly Japanese tilt to the aesthetic, though, which isn't really all that surprising considering that he was once stationed in Tokyo and all.

What is surprising is when he slides her a box of tissues across the desk. Not quite the approach she'd been expecting, not from Marshal we-will-break-you. It's closer to the style of a shrink than the principal, and more than a bit unnerving. Then again he probably just doesn't want her getting blood all over his office.

'That conduct was not very becoming of a Ranger.'

It feels like he wants a response, so she settles for a hopefully not too confrontational; 'I know that, sir.'

'Under the circumstances I am going to overlook this incident, but I don't expect to hear about anything like this happening again. Discipline is paramount in this organisation, if you cannot maintain it in future then you have no place here, or in a Jaeger. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. You have a lot of potential, it would be a shame to throw that away for the sake of a petty scrap.'

 _Is that it?_ Don't get her wrong, Chuck is incredibly relieved to get off so lightly. A slap on the wrist seems mighty lenient, but who cares? Her shot isn't over yet. And this time, she is definitely going to make sure that she doesn't screw it up or go for Ward again. Even if she has the feeling that he's going to make that a near-impossible task after today. He got within touching distance of getting her booted, that's going to do nothing but encourage him. Whatever, she can ignore him. Just so long as she keeps a handle on her temper, and he doesn't ever say anything about Dad again.

So, basically, not a chance.

Of course, because Stacker Pentecost likes throwing curve balls, he sits forward and abruptly changes subject. Sort of.

'Now, I think it is safe to assume that the cause of this altercation was today's news, yes?'

No, not this, they are _not_ going to talk about that. She doesn't need to spell out her feelings here, it's none of his fucking business. Damn it, can't she even have a _chance_ to properly absorb this whole mess first?

Some of it must show on her face because the Marshal soon continues; 'The news was supposed to be embargoed until this evening. It was my intention to inform you personally before the matter became more generally known-'

'So all I was supposed to get was a few extra hours' warning?' Her voice rises unintentionally as she lurches to her feet. Shouting at the man just after he chose not to kick her to the curb is really a bad idea, but still; 'It's been _three weeks!'_

'I am aware of that.' He doesn't even blink in the face of her explosion, voice steady as ever.

Rather than back down, Chucks ploughs on, unable to stop it now that she's finally giving vent to the long-festering thoughts. 'Then why even bother? It's not like I needed to hear any of this from... from my...'

Her arms tremble as she presses her balled fists hard into the desk, unable to make eye contact or even finish the sentence. Fuck, she feels like she's going to start crying. There's more dignity in bleeding in front of the Marshal than in that. But, all this time she's been waiting, and all she gets is _this?_ All she's worth is a brief heads-up at the eleventh hour. This is like another punch to the gut, but ten times worse.

It's one thing to just think that he doesn't care about her, but to have it flat-out _confirmed_ like this...

'I was under the impression that your father had tried to contact you.'

 _What?_ She jerks her head up to stare incredulously at the Marshal. That can't be right. But then, what reason would there really be to lie about it? Unfortunately, Stacker Pentecost happens to have an impenetrable poker face, so even though she scrutinises his expression there's no indication that he's not telling the truth.

Chuck slumps back into the chair as a fresh wave of confusion overtakes her frustration. Fuck, she's just so _tired._ 'Tried?'

'As I understand it.'

'When?' It's more her thinking out loud than seeking an actual answer; she doesn't expect the Marshal to know that much about this. Even though he must know Herc from his piloting days she finds it hard to imagine that the two of them talk enough to touch on those sorts of subjects.

Obviously it comes out a little louder than she meant, as Pentecost gives her an evaluating sort of look and answers; 'That's a question you would need to ask him yourself.'

Yeah, maybe it is. If he had really tried, then perhaps he doesn't-

No. It would have been a call made out of duty more than anything else, nothing can have changed that much. But even so, the suggestion makes that damned hope start to burn bright again. He'd still cared enough to try, so surely he can't hate her completely. There's still a chance for her, for _them_. It's a thought that sends a shiver down her spine.

But what had happened? If he had called why hadn't she- _Gran._ The thought hits like a tonne of bricks. If she'd picked up then there was no chance of her ever passing anything on. Whether the motive would have been protective or more spiteful she can't say, honestly, it'd have depended on Gran's mood at the time. Still, she'd _seen_ what not knowing had done to her; how could she not have said anything?

'However, I can assure you that any further details regarding the nature of this court martial will be remaining strictly classified. So, barring the final verdict, there should be no further disruptions to your training.'

Disruption? Does he really have no idea how much more than that this is to her? Apparently so.

Although the Marshal's going back to the official line now she's got to take the chance to fully clear up one last thing, at least. 'Whatever Scott did, it was the cause of the freeze-up, right?'

Pentecost takes a while to answer, as if deliberating how much he's either willing or supposed to tell her. Eventually, he nods. 'In a manner of speaking.'

 _Thought as much._ Really sells the idea of the Drift, that. Probably why the PPDC is so preoccupied with damage control; the Jaeger Program doesn't need its reputation being tarnished on top of another destruction scare.

'Now, I think that's all there is to say on the matter.' He declares it with a definite finality that allows for no arguments; discussion over. 'Keep the fighting to the kwoon in future and don't make me reconsider your future within this program. Dismissed.'

Making sure to take the wad of bloody tissue, binning it on her way out, Chuck wastes no time in making herself scarce. Never know, he might change his mind about not disciplining her. If she hurries now she could still make lunch, but honestly she'd rather not run that gauntlet right now. The news will have spread like wildfire, it always does, and what she really needs is some time alone.

So long for resolutions, she knows that as soon as she gets back to the room she's going straight for her locker and the guilty stash of clippings. It's like picking at a scab, but after today that wound's already ripped wide open. Fuck, she's trying so hard to move on yet she wants it to be true _so badly._ Maybe if they could talk, if she could just see him and get it over with... As if; Chuck has the awful feeling that nothing short of him completely rejecting her would stop this all-consuming hope and need that's twisting up her insides.

Probably even that wouldn't be enough, honestly, she's too far gone already. Oh, she is _so_ screwed up.

_But he tried._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one - my work-life balance went a bit out of whack for a week - hopefully it was worth it. Chuck can't seem to go too long without getting into a fight at the moment, but at least that cat's out of the bag, sort of. Maybe now she can start to move on? (Why am I asking that, of course not.)
> 
> Many thanks for stopping by, wonderful readers.


	6. Takes Two

'The Drift is the single most important element of piloting a Jaeger, I hope you all understand that. Without it there is nothing.'

Instructor Derrida takes the time to make eye contact with every member of his audience, which isn't too difficult considering that there's only fourteen of them sitting in the lecture theatre. It feels empty, such a sudden and drastic change from the fuller compliment of just a few days ago. They really weren't kidding about the first cut being brutal. Everyone has been a little grimmer than usual since the cut, perhaps something that's approved of as a necessary part of the training process. Things seem more serious now, as the field narrows the prospect of piloting edges closer to being a reality. The competition is about to step up a gear.

They've all been moved into different quarters, to both free up the larger dorm for the next intake and not have to live with a bunch of wasted space. To be fair the new, smaller, corridor is in a better location within the Academy, closer to the mess and everything else important. A perk of passing, getting to move up in the world a little. It's prime position, she gathers, even compared to the living quarters of those on the other training programs. The potential future Rangers apparently take precedence over those prepping for service in LOCCENT, K-Science, or J-Tech. The rooms are still essentially identical, though. She honestly doubts whether even the staff and other higher ups even get anything different. Probably unlikely.

Just two pairs of roommates had been new to each other after the move, the only other individual cadets left now besides Chuck and Anaïs. They seem to be getting along well enough for the time being, as far as she can tell, even if they aren't sitting together like most of the longer-established sets. It'll certainly be interesting to see how many of those pairings remain the same once the compatibility trials get properly underway. The majority are still undeniably going to fall short of getting in a Jaeger, maybe none of them will end up making the grade.

'Not everybody is even capable of Drifting. It is not a skill you can teach yourself and it is not something you can force. Either you have it or you don't, it's that simple.

'Of course, it is not enough for you to be merely Drift capable, you will also need to be matched up to someone with whom you are Drift _compatible_. A Jaeger requires two pilots, of equal skill and capability, who are completely in sync with each other, who can trust one another without reservations.'

None of this is exactly news, anyone who applies to become a Ranger knows as much. It is, however, a little worrying. Chuck spots the slight grimace Lena Rossi makes in the next row and empathises. Complete trust is okay for those who came here with a partner in tow, but for solo candidates it's pretty much unimaginable at this stage.

'Don't worry,' Derrida waves a hand dismissively, as if reading their minds, 'trust can be built over time. That's not what we're going to be concerning ourselves with at this stage. First, we need to find out who here might be compatible.

'To start with you will all be undergoing an individual brain scan, the results of which will be processed and compared amongst the group for a base-level match. On top of this, we will be running a range of personality screens and psych evaluations, to be completely sure that each of you is of the right mind to be going into a Drift.

'Then we go to physical compatibility trials in the kwoon, only after successfully matching up there will you be officially assigned to a partner. Cadets who work together on paper can still fall down when it comes to the spar, and to the real process of synchronising.'

Derrida's expression doesn't inspire masses of confidence, the mood of the room turning progressively graver as he goes through the process. Even the usually upbeat Chus are passing a worried look between them, although the Vorobyov brothers still seem pretty un-phased. Though those two never look particularly happy to start with anyway.

'Obviously you will also be having basic training regarding both the Conn-Pod and Drivesuits while the compatibility assessments are running. The simulator is capable of running with one as well as two, so you will all be able to start accumulating some measure of combat practice straight away. Don't make the mistake of neglecting any of these aspects. Once we have viable pairs we will be immediately stepping things up, and those who cannot keep up will not have the opportunity to lag behind for long.

'We will start calling you individually for the brain scan in the next hour so I would suggest you all return to your quarters and await your turn.' Scanning the room one last time for good measure, probably to assess just how many of them he's managed to get to, Derrida quirks up the edges of his mouth. 'Congratulations on passing the first cut, cadets, but don't expect a breather; _this_ is where your training really starts.'

It's not exactly a rousing encouragement, but also basically par for the course here at the Academy. Trying to break the spirits of recruits is still pretty much the point, simulating the pressures of piloting and all that. Chuck isn't bothered, not by that at least. What's getting her down is the whole business of Drifting. Looking round, she's not sure who here she could really be comfortable letting into her head. Anaïs, maybe. Not for the first time she's reminded how much easier this would all be if she just had someone already.

People mill out of the room pretty slowly, only a couple of the pre-made pairs seeming to shrug off the prospect of this next stage of testing. Tests that they will have no influence over; it's all just up to their inherent brain chemistry and a bunch of psychological factors now.

Leading the pack is a very disgruntled-looking May-Ling Liu, who throws up her hands dramatically. 'It's almost like they think the Kaiju are going to try _depressing_ us to death or something.'

'This is character building, suck it up.' Lena snaps, the Swiss Private still clearly tetchy about the whole thing.

Well, that's one pair of roommates who probably aren't going to work out in a Conn-Pod. From the looks of it, they'd strangle each other before that ever had a chance to happen.

'I think it's exciting.' Henry pops up right behind her, practically bouncing, having naturally remained completely undaunted through that entire talk. 'We're that much closer to getting in a Jaeger.'

'Still not that close.' Shrugging him off, Chuck disagrees. There's still plenty of hurdles between any of them and deployment, more than enough chances left to fall short.

'You just need to start looking at things more positively.' He tuts. 'It'll be easier to Drift if you're open to it.'

'Your cousin tell you that?'

'She did. And she should know.' Henry's smile is somewhat wistful, his mind clearly heading off into thoughts of his hero relative. He's probably here with the blessing of the retired Ranger, she should imagine.

If only she was so lucky.

True to the Marshal's word there hasn't been any word on the progress of the court-martial since the story first broke, but the silence isn't all that much better. Even if she did have a way of contacting him, though, she wouldn't. In spite of that persistent hope that she's been nursing ever since that day, Chuck is nowhere near ready to face him yet. There are still too many doubts, and she needs to stop caring so much. Once she's through this, then she can think about it. When she's got something to show for herself, when he doesn't have other shit to deal with, when the time is right... She's not sure it ever will be, really, but she's got to hold onto something, right?

-

Anaïs ends up being one of the first to go. The scans and the screens come back and all of a sudden she's no longer a viable candidate. Whatever the reason was the older girl never says, and even though she's curious Chuck upholds their understanding and doesn't ask. Still, as she watches her roommate pack she can't deny that she's unhappy to see her go. Her best shot here had been Anaïs without a doubt, and now she has one less chance at finding a co-pilot before it's too late.

Around the same time Henry and one of the other guys both scrub out as well, the week before the physical trials start up. He'd barely been in the simulator a minute before the chipper cadet ended up having a full-fledged panic attack, nearly breaking the nose of the instructor who had to drag him out screaming. Really, it's not so much of a surprise, his cousin did nearly die when the Mark-2 she was piloting glitched out and crashed. Although their so-called friendship was never all that close, it's hard not to feel sorry for the other teenager.

Didn't help that after that everyone seemed to half expect _her_ to crack when she first got into the rig herself. A nice reminder that next to nobody around here has any particular faith in her.

When the time finally comes the even smaller crop of recruits are called down to the kwoon together. Apparently, Chen wants to match people up randomly for the time being. For reasons. Well, probably just to make sure that the analytics didn't miss any viable pairings, double check or something. Not that any of them have actually been told about their compatibility results, yet. Still, this does mean that she has the opportunity to stand and watch any time Ward gets the shit beaten out of him by someone else. She's still not entirely over the fact that he somehow managed to get through the first round of testing.

'Today's spars are not about form, nor are they about who takes the most points. It is not a pure fight. This is about the exchange, the rhythm that may or may not exist between the two participants. Four hits will end the bout.' Chen has a tablet in his hands today, which he consults before announcing; 'First match, Berg, Ward.'

Huh, so that's how they're doing it. All those scans and tests and he's just working through them alphabetically. Feels a bit arbitrary, but then again they have to start somewhere with the random trials. That said if it weren't for the massive difference in temperament she might be able to see these two matching up well. The pair are pretty even in terms of strength and build, although Berg is generally quicker on his feet. Still, it's pretty clear that they aren't at all synced up once the trading of blows starts, both getting progressively more aggressive with every point taken.

Ward ends up winning in the end, pulling a somewhat questionable manoeuvre with one foot to put the other man to the ground with a resounding thwack.

Offering no particular comment on the match, Chen makes a final note on his tablet before calling the next pair of names. 'Chu Fang, Vitali Vorobyov.'

The younger Russian towers over the Cantonese acrobat but there's still a grin on Fang's face as she faces off against him, apparently thrilling in the challenge.

Standing back, absently watching the bout unfold, Chuck works her way through everyone's surnames in her head. Not that there's all that many options really. Her conclusion is Taro Takeuchi, a man of rather formidable demeanour who she happens to know used to be a photographer. And, sure enough, after the next pair of combatants are finished swiping away at each other the fight-master calls out; 'Hansen, Takeuchi.'

They glance at each other before moving out onto the mats, a silent evaluation. This actually isn't the first time they've sparred, unlike some, and they both have a pretty good estimation of the other's abilities. He won't be a pushover but he also won't be too serious a challenge either. Spinning her hanbo a couple of times for good measure, Chuck puts one foot forward and brings the weapon up to signal readiness, keeping her eyes fixed on her opponent.

Indulging in a little showmanship of his own, Taro moves into an opening stance only to almost immediately shoot forward out of it. He feigns a swing at her left but she knows his style well enough to counter to the right, meeting his blow. Of course, that turns out to be exactly what he was planning; an elaborate double bluff which secures him the first point with a tap on her back.

'I'm sorry, did you hit me or was that just the wind?' Chuck doesn't know what compatibility feels like but she has a good idea that this isn't it.

Irked, she proceeds to take the next four points in a row. Although any satisfaction that brings doesn't last long against the knowledge that yeah, she just ruled this partnership out, didn't she? Fuck. One down, nine possibilities left. Heart sinking, Chuck has this terrible feeling that this isn't going to work out with any of the others either. And where will that leave her?

-

It plagues her mind that night, leaving her lying awake with no possibility of sleep. She had never been especially keen on the idea of Drifting. The idea of letting someone else – some _stranger_ – directly into her head still makes her uneasy. There's so much she wouldn't want anyone to see, to know. It's all well and good for them to talk about building trust and all that, but...

Someone like Jack she could probably come around to; someone she's sure wouldn't judge her, who wouldn't want to go prying through her memories and secrets just because they could. Yeah, that's not _supposed_ to happen, but that doesn't mean it couldn't. Look what had happened with Lucky. It's hard not to be a little put off by the knowledge that it was the Drift that had nearly got the two of them killed.

Then again, she might just not be compatible with any of the others, full stop. While some people are super compatible there are others who can only ever successfully Drift with one specific partner, that's just the way it is. But she must have the potential, or else they would have cut her already. No point keeping around someone who's effectively useless to the program, is there?

As she tosses, Chuck wavers between accepting the idea of being incompatible and dreading the ultimate failure that would entail. The only way she'll get in a Jaeger is if she can let someone else in, and if she doesn't get in a Jaeger then... it's not worth thinking about. Regardless of what anyone says, she _will_ force it if she can. _No_ isn't good enough.

Groaning, the teenager finally throws off the sheets, this is just a waste of time. One of the big upsides of no longer having a roommate is that she doesn't have to worry about staying put simply to avoid disturbing the other girl. After all, the quickest way to get herself over these bouts of sleeplessness has always been to get up and _do_ something. Activity will stop her chewing this over all night, that's the best she can do about it for now.

Getting ahead on work is out of the question, it all just ties back to the same subject she's trying to get away from. And, seeing as there aren't any spare engines or anything lying around for her to dissect, that just leaves training. Besides, the mood she's in is more destructive than constructive. Scrubbing her eyes, she checks the time – gone one – before getting slowly changed into something more suitable. There's an exercise room not too far down the level, it shouldn't be a problem sneaking over there. Lights out isn't quite so strict these days and the Academy does basically shut down at night, unlike the 24/7 operations of the Shatterdomes. Nobody's going to kick her out for putting in some extra hours with a punching bag anyway.

Chuck stops to make the bed back up before leaving, neatness and all that. She also shrugs on a jacket, still nowhere near used to the chill of the place which always seems so much worse at night. It's _summer_ for fuck's sake. After this place she is never complaining about heat again.

As expected the halls are deserted, the sound of her door shutting is far too loud in spite of her trying to ease it as slowly as possible. Things are a little darker than normal, lights in the living areas dimmed to conserve power without completely removing visibility. The Academy never goes completely dark, always at the ready. She does hope they don't decide to run a Kaiju drill while she's gone. Although those have gotten fewer and further between as the general reaction speed got better, she doesn't doubt that they've not seen the last of them. They're supposed to be kept on their toes after all.

The gym is naturally dead, lights off until she steps in and they flicker back to life. Peaceful, just the way she likes it. There's really something to be said for having time here completely to herself. It's hard to get entirely away from all the others who make the Academy their home, from their looks and their judgements. People still talk about her, she's heard them. Other trainees scoffing at the fifteen-year-old who can only _really_ be here because of her family. But, you know, sticks and stones and all that crap. Even so, it does get a tad wearing trying to shut it out all the time.

Limbering up, Chuck drinks in the silence and consciously tries to push her thoughts out with her breathing. One of her trainer's main focuses during her four years of counsellor-mandated martial arts lessons back in Perth had been on the ability to clear the mind. Emotional control, or rather a relative lack of it, was the whole reason she'd ended up in there in the first place. Therapy of a sort, and with the added bonus of improving her fighting skills to boot. It'd been perfect, none of that horrible talking about her feelings and psychoanalysis bullshit, even if they had never quite managed to get her completely in control of her temper.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Falling into a pattern isn't difficult, it's as easy as slipping into water, basically effortless. In no time the world narrows down, everything outside the next strike ceases to matter. Nothing like a good long session of bag work to drive away her worries. This was a good call.

Jab. Cross. Left hook. Right hook. Jab. Overhand. Uppercut. Cross. Jab. Cross. _Roundhouse._

Her foot slams satisfyingly against the vinyl, loud against the general stillness of the building. Breathing out deeply she puts up a hand to steady it, leaning ever so slightly against the bag, and giving herself a minute to gauge the state of her body exhaustion-wise. Chuck glances over at the clock, perception of time having left her during the exercise.

2:14.

 _All right then._

Rolling her neck, she's all ready to go for another round to really wear herself down. Who needs sleep anyway? Before she can throw another punch, though, someone coughs. It's like a bucket of cold water down the spine; _shit,_ she's got an audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An audience, eh? That doesn't sound particularly ominous or anything... And it looks like next time we'll finally get a chapter that leads directly on from the previous one! What a revelation. :)
> 
> Many thanks for dropping by, lovely people.


	7. Trial and Error

Chuck doesn't know who she expects to find when she rounds on the doorway but it certainly isn't who she gets. Arms folded tight around a data-pad and dressed in standard PPDC blue, a Japanese girl is staring back at her with a rather intense look. The girl's petite, a little sheepish and slightly soft around the edges in spite of a sort of steeliness that burns in her eyes. If she were to hazard a guess she'd say that her spectator wasn't that much older than her. She's also got this feeling that she's seen her around before, although she can't quite place where.

Whatever; she shifts her weight awkwardly, uncomfortable with this unexpected audience. _Just how long has she been standing there anyway?_ 'Can I help you?'

The girl blinks, either not expecting the question or else surprised by the aggressiveness of it. 'I am sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, the light was on and I was not sure anybody was in here.'

That isn't quite as much of an explanation as she wanted; to start with, what the other girl was doing walking around the building at this time in the first place. Her illusion of at least temporary privacy is shattered, which has pushed her right out of the zone and she doesn't appreciate that. Looks like one round will just have to do for tonight. Brilliant.

'Yeah, well, now you know.' Radiating displeasure, Chuck pushes off the bag, moving to the side of the room to scoop up her boots.

Somehow taking that as an invitation to come further into the room and strike up a conversation, the girl states; 'You fight with a lot of anger.'

' _So?_ I'm an angry person.' She jams a foot violently into the corresponding boot, case in point. It's not exactly something she needs to be reminded of.

That subject quashed, there's only a few moments of contemplative silence before the intruder tries again, completely undeterred. 'How long have you been training?'

 _For fuck's sake._ Tying off her laces Chuck straightens up, grabbing her jacket and heading for the exit. Escape imminent, she tosses out an answer, figuring that it might be the best way to avoid being followed out of here. 'Bout four years.'

'Is that how you got in?'

She stops in her tracks, shoulders instinctively hunching. This, _seriously?_ Then again, it's been a while since anyone actually bothered to ask her to her face, figures. Cause it's not like ruining her late night bag work was enough.

'I guess that'd make sense.'

'You're very good.' Judging by the girl's expression the compliment is sincere, which throws her slightly off-balance. It feels like there should be some manner of 'but' or other qualification at the end. There's got to be some sort of sting in the tail, there always is.

'I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.' That's one thing she can be sure of, her abilities will always count in her favour even if almost everything else doesn't. Of course, this is the sort of stuff that anyone can be taught. It's the one thing that she _can't_ train into herself that worries her. Well, fuck, and now she's gone right back to that damn compatibility issue.

Irritation boiling over, she rounds on the other girl. 'Who exactly _are_ you anyway?'

'Oh,' she blinks, as if she'd genuinely forgotten that they haven't actually been introduced, 'I'm Mako Mori, pleased to meet you.'

Which is _such_ an informative answer. 'And you're wandering around the advanced cadet quarters _because?_ '

For the first time her bluntness seems to annoy Mako, the girl bristling just a little at the implicit accusation of the question. In response, she squares her shoulders, corners of her mouth turning down. 'I was on the way back to my own room.'

'At two in the morning?' She's never seen another cadet around after lights out and certainly not in the small hours of the morning. Anyone else with insomnia certainly does a better job of hiding it. Something is off about this girl and it's really nagging at her. Mori, _Mori_ ; she _knows_ she's heard that name somewhere. And what sort of weird-ass route goes through this area anyway? She'd have to be staying in something like the executive quarters for it to make much sense.

'It is no less strange than you being here now.'

Touché. Kind of. 'My room's a couple of halls over, I couldn't sleep, do the math.'

They face off, Chuck tetchy from her frustration as Mako stands her ground with defiant coolness. This really isn't what she'd come here looking for, it's winding her right back up again, but that feeling at the back of her mind keeps her from walking away just yet. She knows that she's seen this girl around somewhere before.

Sixteen-year-olds aren't entirely uncommon at the Academy, although they are slightly less so on the Ranger program these days. The other streams still attract plenty of eager applicants, though, it probably helps that admission is that little bit easier for those areas and that the chances of success are a little bit higher. So, J-Tech? K-Science? LOCCENT? She's not sure which seems the most likely. Can't be a new Ranger cadet at least, the next batch of those haven't turned up just yet.

Breaking first, curiosity apparently trumping her annoyance, Mako shuffles her feet and asks a question that's clearly been playing on her mind. 'It's very tough, the Jaeger Program, isn't it?'

Chuck shrugs. 'Well, yeah. Only the very best can get the chance to pilot and all that.'

'Sensei always says it takes a rare kind of person to be a Ranger.'

Sensei, huh? Sounds just like something the Marshal would- _Oh._ Belatedly it all clicks into place, and yep, she kicks herself. Mako Mori, Pentecost's adopted daughter, _of course_. There's been talk circulating the Academy about her; quiet comments about propaganda, the morality of bringing someone up for the sake of fighting Kaiju and what sort of guardian would _do_ that? Bunch of ignorant fuck-heads.

With that in mind, as well as the fact that this little tete-a-tete could easily get back to said superior, she's inclined to be just a little more sympathetic. 'Yeah, well, I guess the Marshal'd certainly know about that.'

Mako colours slightly, seeming a little more awkward now that the connection's obviously been made. 'I'm sure your father told you the same.'

'No. We don't talk.' And now it's her turn to be put on the back foot, walls flying back up as that old nerve stings. Shouldn't really take a genius to guess as much, though.

The expression on the other girl's face morphs into a sort of apologetic pity, and that's absolutely not a reaction she wants to deal with. So Chuck pushes the matter away, pretending the words hadn't been said. 'The Marshal going to let you train then?'

'Soon.' Mako smiles, a little tentatively. 'The next intake.'

'Not bad.'

'I've waited a long time. Ever since- I've wanted to pilot a Jaeger for years.' There's no denying the enthusiasm as Mako speaks, nor how much she's clearly pinned on the dream. It's almost strangely familiar.

'Me too.' She has to wonder just how much their motivations might have in common. Is the other girl doing it purely to make her father proud, to hunt Kaiju or perhaps a bit of both? 'Not sure I could've sat around waiting for another year.'

'You didn't expect-'

She snorts. 'Course not, not really. Everyone was always making such a big deal out of my age and all... Couldn't stop me trying, though.'

Mako gives her an unreadable look. 'Determination is a good trait for a Ranger.'

Chuck gets the feeling that she's referring as much to herself as to anyone else with that comment. How much has Mako had to push to get this chance? It must be weird, having the Marshal for a father, and one has to imagine that it'd be even worse once she's under his command professionally. He doesn't seem the type to push a kid into something, though she does wonder how much he might really want to let the girl near a Jaeger. Or, more precisely, a Kaiju. Can't be easy.

If nothing else, at least the only ones she'd really had to convince to give her a shot were the PPDC themselves, and her dad hadn't had the ultimate veto power. Honestly, she's still kind of surprised that they'd relented as fast as they had. People have always said she was here for her family connections, throwing it around like an insult, and she can't deny that it was after Lucky went down that they changed their minds. If the Marshal'd known that Scott was the problem then maybe... As if, like hell would Herc want to Drift with her, the last time they were together he'd barely been able to _look_ at her.

Shaking her head to banish the thoughts, she replies with a slight, self-deprecating smile. 'Not sure stubbornness really counts in the same way.' _Even if it is a family trait._

'Maybe, maybe not.' Mako shrugs lightly and the last of the bad feeling between them is banished. It's clear that the two of them understand each other in a way nobody else in this place can.

Before things can get too fuzzy, though, a loud bleep comes from the pad and makes the older girl start guiltily. 'Ah, I'm sorry, I need to go.'

'Yeah, I should probably be getting some sleep now anyway.' Waving off the apology, Chuck calculates how many hours she'll be able to catch if she goes straight down. It's not many, but she's operated fine on less.

Bustling past, but not before offering a quick half-bow, Mako departs with a small; 'Good luck. I hope we meet again soon.'

'Same.'

And so she's left alone again with her thoughts and the quiet of the dead corridors, just as she was starting to warm up to the company too. The Marshal's daughter, who'd have thought? Oh well, that probably is enough activity for the night, unless she wants to risk falling asleep during Mitchell's latest ode to operating systems. 

-

Another day, another decided lack of Drift compatibility. She's doing fine apart from that, though, tearing through Kaiju in solo simulator sessions and rapidly picking up the mechanics of the whole thing. But while the Chus, the Vorobyovs and even Ward are all starting to go through proper Drift prep she's still no closer to being partnered up.

Three other solo candidates remain now, equally stranded. That's a consolation at least, they're all incompatible together. None of them have any idea how long they'll be allowed to keep this up, though; why bother when there's another batch of cadets just starting on their first trimester? Perhaps the Marshal wants to wait and see if they can match with any of the newer recruits, so long as they prove that they're worth the extra effort. Still, it's hard not to be a tad despondent about the whole thing, and Chuck is increasingly plagued with the thought that maybe she just doesn't have it. Maybe she's not even compatible at all.

So it's a relief when she gets the phone call, she hasn't had the chance to speak to Jack in a while thanks to their conflicting time zones and schedules. A diversion is just what she needs. But then he goes and starts talking, with barely a hello before he launches into the news:

'The court martial's verdict is in.'

Way to waste time on the pleasantries there, mate. Although this _does_ mean that this time she's not going to find out from a fucking news bulletin at least. Too deflated to bother calling him on it, she leans heavily back against the wall; 'And?'

Oh, how she's been waiting for this, much as she's tried to push it from her mind. Over the last two months there's been very little news about the proceedings against her uncle. Typical military justice, very hush-hush, true to the Marshal's promise. She's glad for it, if just for the sake of Herc not having to deal with that on top of everything else.

But fuck she's missed those glimpses of him on the news. It's made the gap between them seem all that much bigger again and she misses him so hard it hurts. She still thinks about him far too much.

'Guilty.'

That's no surprise, not really. It was a gone conclusion anyway, they wouldn't have stirred things up like this if there hadn't been ample evidence to back the charge up, whatever it was. Bad as it is, as far as she was concerned there'd always been something a bit... off with her uncle. He'd never really known how to relate to her either; not that she entirely blames him, that seems to be a common enough sticking point.

'He's been dishonourably discharged. That's all they're telling anyone.' It's said apologetically, she can tell that he'd have liked to have more detail to give her. But at least this means that nobody is going to know the details. Not that a lack of information will do anything to stop Ward trying to rub this in her face all over again.

Still, none of that concerns her as much as one thing. It takes her a second to get it out but she needs to know. 'How- How's Dad taking it?'

Jack makes a noise, something halfway between a sigh and an unhappy cluck. 'No idea, from what I gather he's taking a leave of absence. Haven't seen him around the Dome in ages, and I doubt he'd have exactly told me his feelings even if I'd managed to ask.'

Leave of absence. That doesn't sound good, that _really_ doesn't sound good. Then again he probably does need a break, having to give evidence against his own brother can't have been pleasant. But if he ends up leaving the PPDC... Shit, she could end up losing track of him completely.

There's a bit of a pause before he tentatively ventures; 'I take it he hasn't-'

'No.' Teeth gritted, Chuck cuts that line of thought right off, she can't afford to start hoping too much. Well, he must know where she is and he _did_ try before but- No. If he really wanted to he would have done it by now.

'Well, it's all only just happened, maybe once he's had a bit of a breather?'

She knows he's only saying it to make her feel better, he's well aware that there's less than a snowball's chance in hell of that happening. But, kindly meant as it is, the suggestion does nothing but make her feel worse. ' _Don't,_ Jack.'

'He can't ignore you forever.'

Better that than the alternative. Pressing her forehead against the cold concrete she closes her eyes and counts to five. He's never been able to quite understand how things are with her father, how it's okay for him to hate her so long as it's from a distance and that she will always give him that space even when it hurts her to do so. Jack doesn't have to live with the guilt of having ruined the lives of those closest to him, of being a mistake that can never be taken back.

'Drop it, _please._ ' Chuck hates the way her voice cracks on the last word, but at least it gets the message across.

'All right, I'm sorry.'

_Isn't everyone who's involved in this mess?_

'No worries.' She breathes deeply and hurries to move the subject onto safer ground. 'So, what else is new down there?'

Getting the message, he starts up a long monologue about the weather that somehow mixes into an anecdote about the drunken antics of some of the other Jaeger technicians. They both know it's a bit of a futile exercise now, but she still appreciates the effort, rolling her eyes indulgently and only injecting the odd fondly critical comment. Even so, much as she plays along, her heart's not quite in it.

What is Herc going to do now? She can't imagine him giving up piloting, but then again she hadn't experienced that whole catastrophe with Mawgrim. Maybe that and whatever had happened in that last Drift would be enough to put him off, though she still doubts it. He wouldn't want to just bow out of the fight and leave the Kaiju to the other Rangers, not if he had a choice. They're similar like that, stubborn and unwilling to back down.

But first he needs a breather.

She remembers Dad saying that exact same thing to her.

The city was still locked down on quarantine, even though the thing called Scissure was dead, nuked into oblivion. They were staying at the airbase, along with a lot of the other so-called 'displaced persons' while the government struggled to figure out what to do about it all. Not a lot of personal space or anything but it wasn't so terrible, nowhere near as bad as it could have been.

Looking back, she thinks she was still in shock, really, and had stayed that way for a good few weeks. Sure, it hadn't been the first Kaiju to come rampaging out of the ocean, but those had always been things that happened to other people in faraway places, not here. She'd only cried a bit, and that was wrong. You're supposed to cry when bad things happen, when people die, but it's also important to be strong. So that's what she tried to do as best she could, pretending that she wasn't a bad person for her lack of tears.

Dad was unhappy too. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself either...

Chuck hadn't let go of him that first night, unreasonably afraid that if he left her sight he wouldn't come back. It was stupid and selfish, and it wasn't brave. He didn't need to be worrying about her on top of everything else. That's why after that she closed herself off, huddled up on her own rather than being weak and bothering him.

_It's okay, I'm fine, take care of yourself first._

It took her longer to realise than it should, to figure out why he was suddenly so much more hesitant around her. Why he was so upset. It was because of her. Because when that Kaiju was tearing Sydney apart he'd had to make a choice between her and Mum, and who was the one sitting there? And now that the heat of the moment'd passed he knew that it was the wrong decision. Choosing her was a mistake and he can't take it back. No wonder he could barely stand to look at her anymore.

There were a few more days of the awkward, guilty limbo before he sat her down and said it. The toll of it all was clear but there wasn't any real relief in his expression, it'd just been pained. Like it always seemed to be whenever he looked at her these days.

'This... isn't working, is it? Look, I've called your Gran and she's happy for you to stay with her for a while, just until things settle down again. I just think... we both need a bit of a breather...'

She didn't need that. She'd almost said it then and there but one look at him and she bit her tongue. Just because she wasn't reaching out didn't mean that she didn't need it, want it. But he did. This was what he needed, breathing space, to not be so constantly reminded of that mistake. So she did it, for him. She didn't cry or argue or try to change his mind, much as she wanted to.

Still she'd always hoped that maybe with a bit of time he could forgive her, once things had settled down. Or, once that didn't happen, that one day she could make it up, to prove that even if he regretted her that she'd been worth saving. All she has to do is kill a Kaiju and square the score.

Then just maybe he won't look at her with regret when they next meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, not exactly who you were expecting there, right? ^^; Sorry for any wrong-footing, but Herc did sort of appear here... in vague flashback form... Not much longer to wait now before he shows up for real though, I promise. And then things can really start to get interesting...
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, wonderful readers.


	8. Strike Out

She's alone. Arms crossed, Chuck does her best to blend into the shadows as she reclines against one of the walls of the kwoon. Right now the Chus are sparring and she tracks their movements closely, looking in vain for the secret to their compatibility. Even if she could figure it out just from watching the married couple, though, chances are she wouldn't be able to translate it into applying to her. It's not like she has anyone like that to work with anyway.

Nothing's worked. Trial, after trial, after trial and still not even the faintest hint of Drift-compatibility. She's gone up against all the others, multiple times, even Ward, but to no avail. Quite thankfully in that one case. What more can be done? Well, apparently, waiting for Mako's group to catch up. In six weeks' time.

Taro is still hanging around, patient where she is just stubborn, the only other solo candidate who hasn't decided to cut their losses and transfer. Lena and May-ling are now over in J-Tech instead, probably still having to share a room and getting on each other's nerves like crazy. The number of matched pairs has also dropped to two, the Vorobyovs having disappeared overnight a couple of weeks back for some unspecified reason. Likely something to do with their recklessness in the simulator, from what she's heard they had a bad habit of totalling their Jaeger every time, whether they managed to kill the Kaiju or not.

Her own record remains unblemished, in spite of the rising number of sessions she's racking up in there. Her gut feeling is increasingly that a real Jaeger is never going to happen for her, so she might as well max out the experience while she can. If nothing else killing virtual Kaiju is better than killing no Kaiju at all.

The Chus' session comes to an end as Fang gets her husband in a headlock, it's nearly time up anyway. Ward and his roommate had already gone to shower after their round, leaving just her and Taro as spectators. He gives her a slight nod as he heads off, they all have a free period now but she knows the other solo cadet is just as bored of those as she is. Most of what they seem to be doing now is waiting, in between those few sessions which don't require a Drifting buddy.

Despondent, brooding, she hangs around the empty room a little longer before giving up and going in search of company. Since their night-time meeting a few weeks back she and Mako have taken to talking. Obviously the fact that the older girl is in the middle of the busiest trimester makes it a little harder to find time, but they manage. Chuck doesn't particularly offer any pointers or anything, not that the Marshal's daughter really wants any. She needs to do it all on her own steam, it's a familiar resolution.

Today she's in luck, the group has already finished up for the day. It's weird being back in her old corridor, especially so because it's currently milling with the newer cadets. Uniformly older than her still, of course. More than a few of them give her looks, ranging from scorn to surprise. She ignores them easily enough, most won't make it as far as she has so like hell are their opinions going to bother her.

Fortunately the room she's looking for isn't too far down. Shooting her own glare at the nearest offender, just to remind them that _she's_ the one who's already passed the first cut, she mounts the steps. A quick knock on the door and Mako answers.

'Up for some air?' She leaves it open, Chuck remembers the workload well enough. Still, it's a relief when the other girl nods.

'Sure.'

Ducking back into the room for a moment she comes back with a coat. Neither of them is especially fond of the climate here in Alaska, although Mako has had a bit more time to get used to it over the years. She's been living with the Marshal since she was thirteen and he's been based primarily at the Academy ever since his promotion. If she still feels it then it doesn't offer much hope for those from hotter climates. It's technically summer – winter back in Sydney – but, whilst the snow has gone it's still nowhere near warm most days.

They only exchange a couple of the standard quick catch-up questions on the way out of the building, saving the main talk for when they've got a bit more privacy. It's not far to the nearest exit, Mako pulling on her trench as she walks, keen to get it done up before the door opens. As expected, a blast of chill air rushes inwards at they go out, both bracing; Mako folds her arms around herself while Chuck jams her hands into pockets and hunches her shoulders. Fucking fridge.

The sun's still high in the sky, regularly obscured by banks of grim cloud. Sunset's not for hours yet, the days having lengthened like mad since she got here. Although that's sometimes hard to remember given the general lack of windows in most of the Academy's major rooms. Still, it means they can come out here without too much trouble before dinner, or even after if the mood suited.

Heading away from the buildings, the pair initially stick to the side of the runway but gradually move further off once they hit the tree-line. There's a bunch of trails that wind through the woods, which are owned by the Academy of course, as well as the occasional animal track. Supposedly Mako saw a bear out here once, though she's not sure she entirely believes the other girl. The one particularly well-worn path they end up on winds up the slope, it leads to a spot that offers a clear view over the whole facility. It's a good place for thinking, talking or being alone that Mako had found some time ago. It probably says a lot that she's shared it; nobody else seems to come up this way.

It's rugged and wild and completely unlike anywhere she's ever been before. Be nice if it wasn't for the climate. 

Relishing the openness of the outdoors in spite of the chill, Chuck breaks the silence. 'How's Mitchell treating you?'

'She liked my paper on the benefits of a vortex turbine over an internal plasma reactor.'

'What _is_ it with you and the Mark-3s?' Honestly, if there was any line she'd have expected the other girl to be especially fanatical about it'd be the first.

No less adamant, in spite of this being the umpteenth time this has come up, Mako explains patiently, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 'They don't have the faults of the 1s and 2s, they are better crafted.'

Everyone, in the PPDC at least, remembers the issues that had cropped up with those particular lines of Jaegers. The radiation problem with the 1s and the serious hardware faults that had plagued the earliest Mark-2s.

Still, she feels obliged to counter with a defence, needling. 'Only because the 1s were rushed out in a few months.'

'Perhaps.' It's a pretty unconvincing concession. 'But the 3s are all built on what was learned from the earlier models, so they have to be an improvement.'

'Then why not the 4s?' Chuck still has a suspicion that this isn't quite as much to do with the machines themselves as her friend is willing to admit.

'They are still new, not as well tested, not as reliable. Not yet anyway.'

'Better tell the Marshal not to offer you a 5 then.' It comes out far too bitter and it oversteps the mark, but that's just the sort of mood she's in right now.

A telling pause ensues, Mako glancing at her with one of those concerned looks. This is a subject that manages to regularly find its way into their conversations in spite of intentions; similarly old ground to retread. 'You know that if you did not have any chance you wouldn't still be in the program.'

Chuck sighs; it's easy enough to _say_ that. 'Yeah, yeah. I'd've been cut long ago.'

'The Marshal knows what he is doing.' A frown crosses her face when she realises that isn't argument enough right now. 'And the scans would have shown if you were not able to Drift.'

'I don't know. I just- even if I _could,_ I'm not so sure I would.'

' _What?_ ' Mako looks like she's seriously considering shaking her. Hell, she doesn't usually raise her voice this much either. 'Why would you say that? What about fighting? What about the Kaiju?'

Running a hand through her hair, tugging just a little, Chuck isn't surprised by the outburst. Hell, she gives herself the same grief every time her mood swings back away from that weariness. But she can't deny that the doubts are coming more regularly these days. Her sleep's been getting rougher again, which is probably at least partly to blame for these increasing phases of insecurity. The fresh air's definitely helping some, though.

'I'm not giving up, Mako, I'm just- just _tired_. It just feels like I'm wasting time, sitting around and waiting on the chance that someone compatible _might_ eventually show up. And I _know_ that the longer this takes the less chance I have of actually piloting.'

New Jaegers aren't as numerous as they once were after all. Production has slowed down since the Mark-3s, each new one more heavily invested in and carefully crafted. The focus is on quality rather than quantity, seeing as there's already a good number out there in the world. Besides, the first Mark-5 is Australian, it'd be a shame to miss out on a shot at that one. But, from what she hears, there's still a couple of months left before it'll be ready for testing, there's still time. Possibly. Just.

Mako lightly bumps her shoulder, endlessly reassuring. 'It will work out, you'll see.'

'I hope so.' She tips her head back, puffing out a breath and watching the clouds. Grey on grey on slightly darker grey.

Up until recently her resolve to do this hadn't really wavered, she was going to get in a Jaeger and that was that, screw anyone who said otherwise. Failure simply wasn't an option. Because this is the only thing she can do with her life, her best – if still slim – chance at making things right. Her survival _has_ to count for something.

Perhaps it's just that the closer she's gotten to her goal the further away she seems to be from actually achieving it. And she feels no closer to getting what she really wants either. There's not been any word, _yet_. As much as she's spent these weeks telling herself not to expect anything it still hurts. But that's okay, he needs more time, that's fine. If she could just get through this damn block though then maybe...

Together the pair of them stand looking out over the Academy, each occupied with their own thoughts. But, duty calls, in spite of the light time is ticking and it's obvious that they need to start heading back if they're not going to miss dinner. Besides, as good as the brisk air is for clearing the mind, neither of them is really warm enough to want to stay out here all that much longer.

'Marshal's away again, isn't he?' Chuck suddenly recalls the question on the way down, better late than never.

An affirmative noise accompanies her nod. 'Just for a day, there was something that needed him in Anchorage.'

'Ah.' Makes sense, that Shatterdome is pretty damn local after all. 'Guess you used to tag along for things like that?'

'Sometimes, sometimes not.' Mako's tone is a little wistful. The past is something they've tended to avoid discussing in too much detail.

After that they stick to the safety of a more neutral subject the rest of the way, keeping up a faster, less meandering pace. Now that they're done it's the sooner back inside the better. Within striking distance of barracks, Chuck's ears prick up with the sound of approaching rotor blades. Instinctively she stops, tilting her head back and shielding her eyes in order to get a look. A Sikorsky Sea Stallion; she still has a pretty keen sense for the machines. It had always been in her to follow her dad, just maybe not quite so closely before everything went to hell.

Mako is also watching the progress of the chopper as it draws closer, coming in over the sea. It's a fairly safe bet that it'll be the Marshal returning from his visit to the mainland, visitors aren't really all that common out here. They get maybe a dozen flights in and out a week, the facility is hardly a major hub of activity. Only official PPDC craft use this runway anyway, any others have to go through Kodiak's airport. Still, it's a rare enough sight for them to actually catch one landing that it goes without saying that they'll wait for it to land before heading in. There's time.

The helicopter touches down some distance away, setting down nearer the facility's main entrance, very by the book. Chuck's interest drops off pretty much immediately; the wind's picked up to lower the temperature a couple degrees, she's basically sure who's onboard and doesn't particularly feel like forming an impromptu welcoming committee for the Marshal. She gets the sense that he doesn't entirely approve of her, like she's falling short of some unspecified standard. That and he probably thinks she's a bad influence on his daughter. Turning to the other girl she gives her a second before getting her attention.

'You gonna go over?' Chuck inclines her head in the direction of the craft. If Mako wants to go that's no problem, but she doesn't want to stand around out here any longer than she needs to.

'I...' Mako has to pause to think about it, expression unsure, still adjusting to the altered dynamic of the relationship with her father figure. After a moment of deliberation, she looks away. 'He only just got back, I will see him later.'

Fair enough. Continuing together towards the barracks doors, pace picking back up now that the excitement's over, it's only in the peripheral of her vision that she vaguely clocks the Marshal stepping out onto the tarmac.

'Your lot got up to speed on the Kaiju drills yet?' It's a calculated distraction; Chuck knows full well how frustrated the other girl is about the way some of her fellow cadets just can't seem to get the hang of the night-time exercise. 

Glowering, Mako takes the bait. 'No! We have had the drill two times this week and it still takes three minutes for everyone to be out. _Three._ '

Slightly more amused than she should be by her friend's annoyance, she goes to reply when further movement by the chopper catches her attention; so someone's with him. Knee-jerk curiosity has her glancing over in spite of herself, even though it'll probably just be a tech or something. Except it's not. Her legs legitimately lock-up with the shock of recognition, and she can't stop herself staring. _It can't be. Dad?_

What the- What is he _doing_ here?

There's no mistaking him, much as she wishes she were. Chuck's far too familiar with his image to get mixed up and he _did_ just get out of a PPDC vehicle after all. If that wasn't enough of a give-away her heart just fucking _lurched_ , her entire body prickling as she just stands and stares. _Don't look over here, just don't look over here, don't look- Oh, fuck it!_

Heart beating about a mile a minute, she bolts into the cover of the doorway, screw dignity. If she was fast enough he shouldn't have seen her, but her reaction might have been too slow. She doesn't know, fuck, she just doesn't know. Pressing her back hard against the concrete, Chuck puts her head in her hands and tries to just breathe. Shit. No. He can't be here, he _can't._ Why is he here? _Shit, shit, shit._

So _that's_ what was in Anchorage.

'Are you okay?' Mako is looking at her with the most concerned expression she's ever seen on her, and possibly more than a trace of pity.

'Is he gone?' Not the most reassuring response she could have come out with, but that's what she needs to know. The thought of facing Herc right now is making her feel kind of sick. She's nowhere near ready for this.

'I-' Frowning, Mako nevertheless obliges and leans back out to check. 'Yes, they've gone inside.'

She lets out a long breath. 'Thank fuck.'

Now she just has to figure out how to avoid accidentally ending up in the same room as him. This is not- she's not ready. Not to face him in the flesh. Oh, don't get her wrong, she still wants to go after Herc and tackle him, but she's scared. Scared that he's not really forgiven her yet, that he still can't look at her without that pained expression... Shit, she hopes he's not planning on sticking around here for long. Though something tells her that she's not that lucky, and seriously, would he really come all the way up here just for a quick chat with the Marshal?

'Is this that bad?' Confusion is now added to the mix of expressions Mako is directing at her. 'I thought you missed him.'

_Oh, you don't know the half of it._

'Yeah, but- Look, it's really complicated.' Nope, this situation is terrible enough without having to discuss it. Waving the other girl off, Chuck retreats further into the building, ignoring Mako's call to wait. She needs to be alone, she needs to fucking process this.

What the hell is he doing here? It can't be for her. It _can't_ be, can it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rather get the feeling that this isn't going to go all that smoothly... But finally, at long last, the two of them are actually in the same place! In terms of location anyway. Next stop, getting them into the same room.
> 
> Cheers for stopping by, lovely people.


	9. Runaway

Walking in the next morning, she can't tell if it's just her or if the mess in general is really staring at her. It's like that first day all over again, except ten times worse. Ward gives a jaunty wave as she goes past, fortunately just that little bit too far away to hear anything he has to say. Of course he's going to be a right wanker about this, surprise, surprise. Punching him won't change anything, she just has to remember that. Mako, meanwhile, is nowhere to be seen and she's left to eat by herself. No conversation to slow her down, that's good.

After that close encounter yesterday she'd holed up in her room, spending the next few hours trying to pretend that she wasn't listening for the sound of a knock. Nobody came. Chuck tells herself that she didn't feel nearly as disappointed as she really did. But, you know, it had been a long journey, it's not like tracking her down would have been his first priority in any case.

It had ended up being a very long night, even more so because she couldn't risk walking around the Academy. Her mind hadn't been able to settle just knowing that he was somewhere in the facility. In the same building. Within reaching distance. Finally.

But why is he here? There's about three different possibilities she's been tossing around. One, he's resigning. But that doesn't feel quite right, and the idea certainly doesn't sit well with her. That's not the type of person he is, unless whatever happened in that Drift with Scott was so terrible that he couldn't get back in a Jaeger. For his sake, she hopes not. Still, as much of a stickler as the Marshal is for protocol, she doubts he'd force Herc to come all the way to Alaska just to hand in his notice.

Two, Pentecost has offered him a job here. There's a definite gap for that in the Academy, nobody on the training staff has any first-hand experience of combat in a Jaeger other than the Marshal himself. Who doesn't exactly have masses of time to devote to teaching anyway. Admittedly there aren't exactly many Rangers around who aren't still piloting. She can think of maybe two other retired pilots, and neither of them are in much of a condition to be training cadets. So why wouldn't the Marshal jump at the chance to recruit their best for the role? Seems like a more logical explanation.

Or three, he's here about her. And much as she tries to dismiss that thought it keeps coming back, like a fucking boomerang...

Meal dispensed with, stomach quieted, appearance made, Chuck departs the mess again in less than ten minutes. The hallways are quiet as she makes her way back towards her quarters, breakfast always tends to draw everyone in pretty rapidly after all. Still, she tries to measure her pace so that it's quick without seeming like she's particularly hurrying. She's on edge the whole way, running into him in a corridor is really not the way she wants the reunion to go. Which is probably why she nearly jumps out of her skin when the Marshal abruptly materialises out of fucking nowhere to ambush her.

' _Shit!_ ' She flinches, heart racing as she glances around to make sure nobody else is in the area. There's no-one, to her marked relief.

Pentecost clears his throat and she belatedly realises that she'd sworn out loud. This really isn't going to end well.

'Sorry, sir. You, uh, startled me. Won't happen again.' Chuck half-wonders if throwing in a bow might make the apology go down a little better.

'See that it doesn't.'

For a wonderful moment she genuinely thinks that's all he's going to say to her, that this little run-in was entirely accidental and he hasn't been specifically looking for her. Because if it's awkward enough trying to account for herself to a friend then the commanding officer is something else altogether. Even more so when she knows that he's on at least good speaking terms with her dad. Her heart sinks, though, when she takes a tentative step back and he promptly cuts her off.

'You're not an easy person to get hold of, cadet.'

She'd take that as a compliment if it wasn't so clearly a reprimand. Bugger, this means the Marshal _has_ been deliberately looking for her. Does that mean- No. Don't go reading into it, she tells herself, this _could_ be nothing to do with Herc's presence. A little unlikely, but still, she can always try to delude herself.

'0800 hours in the kwoon.' He gives her a slight frown. 'I expect you to show up.'

Oh, o-kay? Direct order, can't really refuse one of those. Not to his face, anyway. 'Yes, sir.'

Acknowledging the response with a slight incline of his head the Marshal goes off on his way, probably to pop out of the shadows at someone else unfortunate. Of course she got caught, what was she expecting? If Pentecost wants to talk to someone he'll damn well track them down, there's no hiding. Well, as she walks the last bit of the way – a minute faster and she'd have had it – Chuck at least knows that she wasn't _completely_ paranoid about the whole thing.

Why the kwoon? The obvious place for a serious talk is his office, so it can't be that he particularly wants to wring her out, announce anything one-to-one or have any sort of chat. But does this mean that whatever he wants is unconnected to her dad's arrival? Bit of a coincidence if not. Although maybe he's just going to publicly kick her out.

For the next hour and a half she's stuck chewing it over, unable to come to a satisfying answer. Well, she keeps circling back to the same conclusion time and again, she just can't accept it. Why else would it be the kwoon, though, if he isn't going to trial her against her dad? It makes far more sense than she wants to admit. But, no. That's just not possible. It wouldn't work. The Drift is built on total trust, how could it work between them if he still can't bear to be around her? Just, what other explanation is there? Fuck, why did she have to have eaten?

Unfortunately, not going isn't an option. Chuck's not stupid, she isn't going to piss the Marshal off if she can avoid it. Besides, she's far too curious to resist. It's not as if it's a _certainty_ that Herc's going to be there. Just a very high likelihood is all.

If she's being completely honest with herself, then yeah, of course she does want to see him. Same as she's wanted for four and a half years now. Just as much, if not more. But she's still not sure she's ready for him to see her. What if he's not got past it yet? All this time keeping her distance, putting off the inevitable, it might just break her to have those hopes dashed. But one way or the other she needs to know. She can't go on living like this, it's screwing her up.

Maybe this'll force her to properly let go of him, stop obsessing like she does. Most likely a healthier thing for her, in the long run. But- Chuck honestly doesn't know, and it's with more than a little trepidation that she heads out to make the appointment.

Hopefully projecting more composure than she feels, she arrives to find the Marshal waiting for her, alone. Oh. She definitely doesn't feel any disappointment on seeing the otherwise empty room, not at all.

'Ah, right on time.' Pentecost's expression offers no particular clues as he assesses her. 'Now, as you are no doubt aware, the matter of your Drift compatibility has become something of a problem with regards to the progress of your training.'

Of course she's fucking aware of it, arms crossed as she bristles. It's not like she's been asleep for the last few weeks of sitting around and striking out.

'In light of that, today we will be trying something slightly different.'

What? Chuck stares at the man uncomprehendingly as the words work their way around her head a couple more times, struggling to process. No. She can't have heard that right, that can't mean what she thinks it means.

There's movement in her periphery, the Marshal turns his head and she _knows_. Oh hell. She has to steel herself before she can look, even though she has no doubt who she's going to find. Standing just a few feet away, looking right back at her, is Herc.

Well, damn. The bottom promptly drops out of her stomach and she can just feel the way the heat is already rising in her cheeks. Why does she have to have such a massive, obvious emotional giveaway? Stupid genes.

He looks good, though. Very good. Even better in person, up close, as if that's even remotely fair. Hasn't changed much, the benefit of her having kept such a close tab on him over the years. There's no particular sign of the travel or jet lag, looks like he shaved a couple days ago. He's dressed for the exercise, possibly just changed, and it's not a bad look on him at all. Not that anything'd be a bad look on him.

Drinking in the sight of him, Chuck knows that she's staring far too much, but that's a warning easily ignored because _just look at him._ He's right there. Not a picture, not a video, actual flesh and blood. Fuck, she's spent the entire night anticipating the possibility of being in the same room as him, but the reality is just something else. It's as if she never really realised how much she missed him until right now.

She is _so_ screwed.

Pentecost clears his throat and she snaps back to the here and now. Compatibility trial. With Herc. No pressure.

'Right, standard rules. Any objections?'

Good question. Chuck's instantly shaking her head, using the opportunity to try and clear her thoughts a little better. This isn't a possibility she'd ever really let herself entertain but, as she reminds herself, there's still a good chance they won't be compatible at all. She's struck out more than enough times now to consider that the more likely outcome here, even if the familial connection does boost the chances. Failing right in front of her dad isn't something she'd have chosen, but hell, it's not like she could turn down the opportunity to at least _try_. And really, wouldn't it be something to actually partner with him?

'None here.'

A shiver goes down her spine. _Shit, get a grip._

Well, it's not like he'd have come all the way out here just to say no now, is it? Taking another quick glance at him, she doesn't detect any real giveaways as to what he's thinking in his manner or expression, but that doesn't really mean all that much. He's nothing if not professional.

'Then when you're both ready.' Pentecost gives her a pointed look, and her face burns.

Yeah, right, ready. Scurrying to the opposite side of the mats she quickly shrugs off her jacket before bending to deal with her boots. Laces are just _such_ a great idea for when someone's nervous and in a hurry. Because the more she thinks about it the worse her nerves start to get. Herc, right over there. And she has to spar with him. And they might even- Fuck, she really should've skipped breakfast.

Going back to collect a hanbo, annoyingly conscious of the fact that she really should have got it on the way past to be faster, Chuck sees the two of them exchanging quiet words. As if she didn't feel judged enough already. He hasn't stopped watching her this whole time, though, she can't decide if that's a good or bad thing. On the bright side, at least they don't have to do any talking during this. She's not sure that's something she could manage right now, as much as she needs to say to him.

 _Just breathe._ Returning to her end – shouldn't have gone for the one facing the Marshal in hindsight - she warms up, making a determined effort to push everything else out of her mind. So maybe she won't come out of this compatibility trial successful but she'll damn well go down fighting. This is it, she knows, her time here has all just been leading up to this one moment of truth.

She raises her head defiantly, as ready as she'll ever be, and looks the Marshal straight in the eye. 'Okay, let's go.'

Hanbo already selected, Herc steps out onto the mats, slowly approaching until he's a few paces away. He doesn't take his eyes off her, giving the staff a lazy spin. Well, it's not like she's going to be looking away from him now either. For the fight, and she doesn't really want to stop looking either. Not that direct eye contact isn't kind of intimidating but she just has to pretend this is just another fight. _Don't think, just do._

How to play this? She brings her own weapon up, facing off and trying to figure out a strategy. While she's got a read on his style in a Jaeger she's got no idea how he fights with a hanbo. But, like all these things, it's a bad idea to over-think this. Know what? Fuck it, she's done hiding. Aggression is her better bet anyway. Launching off with a spin, Chuck aims low for the legs.

He blocks, of course, stepping out from the blow to retaliate with a higher hit aimed towards her stomach. Twisting, she dodges, falling back but only for a moment, refusing to be pushed onto the defensive. He's good; as if she'd ever had any doubts about that.

With a vicious parry, Chuck knocks aside his hanbo, bringing her own in to rest against his collar. She can't help smiling as she takes in the fact that she just landed the first point. Looks like she won't end this as a total disgrace then. _You sure you're giving me your full attention there?_

'1-0'

Their eyes meet and he tilts his head slightly. _Well, if that's how it's going to be._

Stepping back, relinquishing the shot, she resumes a ready stance as he does the same. This time, though, he's the one to go on the attack, a succession of strikes coming thick and fast as she furiously counters. She loses track of how many past double figures, focused on not being forced to give ground and dancing around the mats in an attempt to give herself another opening. It doesn't come. A little too slow on a block and she feels the hanbo brush her side, power pulled at the last moment.

'1 all.' _Watch that confidence._ There's challenge in his tone and like hell if she can resist that.

He's barely retreated before she swipes at him, setting off another run of strikes and counters. Everything narrows down to the exchange. The rest of the world, her doubts and fears, all that flies out the window as the next couple of points go by almost without thought. They trade blows rapidly back and forth, neither staying on the defensive for long, as the balance constantly shifts.

It's exhilarating. She's never felt a rush quite like this. Every other spar here has been so _stale_ comparatively. No one has ever matched her like this, not properly, none of the others ever really managed to push back against her so well. It's not like any other fight she's ever been in, it's more like a dance. Like they know each other's moves before they make them. Almost like...

Capitalising on her moment of hesitation, Herc gets her hanbo in a lock, which brings them three-to-three. The move also has the side effect of pulling her in so that there's barely any space left between them. She's intensely aware of the proximity and the heat radiating from his body. Closer than she'd ever thought she'd get again, close enough to-

_Fuck._

Jerking back with more force than strictly necessary, Chuck averts her eyes and prays that any colour in her face could be written off as a result of the spar itself and nothing more. _Oh no. Don't think like that. You don't want that, you don't. Yes, he's gorgeous but- He's your dad, you sick fuck._

'Last point.' The Marshal's voice comes out of nowhere, hell, she'd forgotten he was even here.

She glances over and although she can't entirely gauge the subtleties of his expression Chuck is pretty certain that he's pleased. So it can't be _that_ obvious. Or just not as obvious as something else. Pentecost's satisfaction can only mean one thing in this context, the thing that she's subconsciously known for a good couple of rounds now. Drift compatibility.

Oh hell.

It does seem like it solves everything, doesn't it? She gets to pilot without having to worry about sharing headspace with a stranger and, more importantly, she gets to be with him. But it's just not that simple. Especially not when she feels- when she thinks the sort of crap she does about him. Not to mention it's one hell of a leap to go from not having spoken in four-odd years to fucking mind-melding. Damn, she almost wishes this was just another one of those stupid dreams, those at least don't have, you know, serious fucking consequences. Pentecost wouldn't actually go so far as letting her Drift with her dad, surely?

Like she wouldn't be just as bad an idea to stick in a Conn-Pod with him as her uncle. Well, maybe this means she's not as obviously messed up as she thought at least, even if the reality is far worse.

Still, Chuck looks back at Herc, readying for the final exchange even as the worry continues to escalate. This wasn't supposed to turn out this way. In an ideal world, maybe, but it can't work. She's not good enough for this, for him. How can he even bear the idea? He can't have expected this outcome, that's the only explanation. She can't have been that wrong about his feelings, or it wouldn't have taken this long for them to come back together. But now, he'll have to outright reject her. Pushing that unpleasant thought away, she resolves to at least make the most of this last round.

That said, he doesn't _seem_ unhappy, closer to the opposite really. Like this _is_ what he wants...

 _Stop it. Focus._ Chuck shakes her head.

This time, she deliberately holds back and waits, willingly letting him take the lead. She adopts a slightly more responsive style, trying to draw it out for as long as possible. If she's never going to get the chance to feel this again she is damn well going to make it last while she can. Now that she's had him here she has no idea how she can cope with him walking away again. But if he doesn't...

_I can't do this._

Next swing going wide, her defences are left open and in an instant she's hitting the mats, hard. The air gets knocked out of her lungs and just like that it's over, it's not a fall she can get straight back up from or turn into something else. Apparently, he hadn't expected her not to manage a counter, probably knowing that it was a deliberate gap, with none of the power having been pulled from the move. Damn, he's incredible.

'Well, I believe this solves our problems.' Yep, the Marshal definitely sounds pleased. If she'd had any doubts left that he'd been planning this from the start they're gone now.

Breathing in deeply, Chuck goes to get up, satisfied that she's spent long enough being pathetic for one day. She's caught slightly by surprise when Herc preempts her by silently extending a hand. Without thinking she accepts it, letting him pull her easily back to her feet. For a long moment it doesn't seem like he's going to let go, hesitating as he looks at her. She can almost see him thinking about how long it's been.

_Hell, I've missed you._

It passes, no doubt hastened by the approach of Pentecost, and both of them take a pointed step back. Perhaps she imagined the slight squeeze before he relinquished his grip on her forearm, that won't stop her mind clinging to it, though. Could she have got it wrong? Does this mean he really has forgiven her? But he left her there, he wanted space. But then if he tried to call... _No, it's still all her fault._

'So, that's settled then?' The Marshal's tone conveys it more like a statement than a question. There's no doubting that _he_ has decided on the matter already. Does he really have no idea?

'I'd say so.'

She frowns, giving him a sideways glance. That's not how this is supposed to go. They've proven that she can be compatible, now he's free to leave, find someone he could _actually_ Drift with if that's what he wants. A compatibility trial is one thing, Drifting is something else entirely. He can't possibly want that, even if this is why the Marshal wanted her here in the first place. Because partnering up means being in each other's minds regularly, indefinitely.

Oh fuck, he'll _know_.

This is all going far too fast. A few hours ago she hadn't been sure she could handle looking him in the eye, and now she's all but signed up to be Drift partners with him. Chuck can feel them both waiting for her response – _as if the Marshal really gives a shit about what her opinion is_ – and the panic takes hold.

' _No._ ' She's frankly amazed it comes out half as firm as it does, the word slipping out before she's entirely decided to say it. Someone here has to be realistic, this can't work, and like _hell_ is she going to risk hurting her dad by letting him into her messed up head. Her mind's made up, he deserves better. It doesn't matter how good that had felt, how much she desperately wants not to lose him again or if she's throwing away her only shot at a Jaeger.

'I beg your pardon?' The Marshal's eyes are narrowed at her, clearly not having foreseen this eventuality.

Not brave enough to hazard a glance in Herc's direction, she squares her shoulders, hoping that none of the regret is managing to slip through her shields. 'I said; no. No, this is _not_ settled. It's not going to happen.'

Before anyone can start getting any arguments in, although there is a decided silence coming from her right, she turns and all but runs out of there. Not the most mature way to conclude the conversation but an undeniably effective one nonetheless. 

She's about halfway back to her room when the chill of the floor seeps through her senses and Chuck realises that she's still barefoot. Shit. Oh well, there's no way she'll go back for those now, collateral damage. And hey, if she gets fucking frostbite there's absolutely no way she can partner with him.

Of course, now she's noticed it the cold really starts to make itself felt. Doesn't help her rapidly deteriorating mood at all. Why did she _do_ that? Fuck, if he didn't hate her already that'll have given him a big old push in the right direction. All these years she's spent pining after him, just hoping for a chance and then she goes and shoves him away again at the first opportunity. Shit, she's an _idiot_. No, she has to think of the bigger picture. They can't Drift together, especially not if she keeps on thinking about shit like how damned attractive he is. Can't let this get out of control. Well, fine, _more_ out of control.

To her relief nobody follows, even if she really wishes he would've, and in next to no time she's banging her door shut behind her. The doors here don't give much of a satisfying slam though and with a snarl she punches it hard for good measure. Her skin splits, knuckles coming back bloody, but she ignores that. A few more hits and she starts to calm down, at least a little, sucking in a deep breath and furiously wiping at the tears coursing down her cheeks.

Why does she have to fuck everything up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being in the same room check, now if only they'd actually _talk_ to each other. Well, don't worry, a reaction like that demands an answer and I don't think that Herc's going to take this rejection lying down.
> 
> Thanks for dropping by, as always.


	10. Greater Good

When the knock finally comes it's a lot quieter than she's expecting, more tentative. Lying back on her bed and staring at the ceiling, Chuck debates answering it. Right now she can't think of a single person who it would be more helpful to let in than keep shut out. It's already bad enough as it is. If she's isolated at least things can't get worse, and she's nowhere near ready to deal with any of the reprimands or interrogations.

On the third attempt Mako's voice comes through the metal. 'It's just me, nobody else is out here.'

For a moment she toys with a response of 'go away' before deciding that it might be a good idea to at least see what her friend's take on this is. Maybe she'll get an idea of just how badly the Marshal's taking this too. If she doesn't like it she can always shut the door again after all, easy. Not as if it matters if she alienates another person today. Unwinding her limbs slowly, she pads over and swings the door open, trusting the other girl enough to not bother checking the peep-hole first.

Judging from the older cadet's face she looks a right state. Rather than saying so, though, Mako simply holds out her boots. 'You left these.'

Any doubt that her friend already knows everything – well, _almost_ everything – about the compatibility trial evaporates. Well, shit. With only a slight hesitation she accepts the offering. 'Thanks. Did-'

'I was asked to return these, yes.' She cuts her off, taking no offence at the slightly accusing nature of the implicit question. It's a natural enough conclusion to reach, after all. 'But I would have come anyway once I heard.'

Chuck sighs. The entire Academy probably knows about it by now, of course. 'How much did he tell you?'

'Enough.' Is that judgement she detects in her tone or is it just her imagination?

'Well, good, cause I really don't feel like talking about it.' She doesn't really feel like standing out here on her doorstep all that much longer either.

'Okay.' Nodding, Mako accepts it easily enough. They have always had a history of not really pushing each other on the sensitive stuff, but she'd been expecting a little more in the way of curiosity this time. 'You don't need to say anything, let's go for a walk.'

But she can't leave her room, what if he- Instinctively resistant to the idea, she frowns; 'Don't you have training to be attending now?'

'No, I have the hour before lunch free today.' Mako counters smoothly, if she's lying it's impossible to tell. Times like this it's so clear how much the Marshal has rubbed off on her.

Damn, it's that late? Hadn't felt like hours passing but then again this wouldn't be the first time she's lost a lot of time to one of her darker moods. Usually it's Max who helps to break her out of it, though. At least she'll be seeing him again a lot sooner once she's been kicked out over this, that's about the only solid consolation she's been able to come up with.

Honestly, she is starting to feel like company, and getting out from those four walls, might not be such a bad idea. Just to distract herself from this massive cluster-fuck she's created. 'All right, give me a minute.'

Shutting the door behind her just in case, Chuck heads to the sink to scrub her face. The blood's dried on her knuckles, there's not much she can do about those. They're a little sore, but really that's the least she deserves. As long as she can make herself look just slightly less of a wreck, though, she'll be okay. She doesn't want anyone to know that she's been crying, least of all Herc. Still, that's one of the perks of going outside, it's hardly crowded out there. Getting the damn boots back on, she steels herself and joins her friend in the corridor. This has to be better than just stewing in her room and beating herself up, than this stupid, hopeless _waiting_.

The halls are decidedly dead as they head for the exit, everyone else most likely occupied with work at this time of day. That's a relief, even if she's still edgy on the chance that the Marshal is going to pop out from around a corner. It really feels like she shouldn't be getting away without explaining herself for this long. Although Mako is true to her word and doesn't ask anything she can't help interpreting the silence as just a little expectant. Maybe this is Pentecost's way of trying to get some honest answers out of her?

What's Mako's take on this, she wonders. True, she hasn't ever really told her much about her relationship, or lack thereof, with Herc, only the barest bones and the occasional slip of how much she misses him. Just how inconsistent does the other girl find her blunt refusal to work with the very man she's spent so long pining over?

Tied up in second guessing, Chuck makes it as far as the tree-line before bursting. 'You think I'm crazy, don't you?'

'No, not at all.' She shakes her head. 'I'm just confused.'

'Well, that makes at least two of us.' Scuffing a foot on the trail Chuck glares at the floor, she has the distinct, unfulfillable urge to kick something. Possibly herself.

'If this is upsets you so much then why are you doing it?' Mako can't seem to resist the question. Clearly, she wants to help, to understand, but right now there's nothing she can really do.

Gritting her teeth, Chuck keeps her head down. Honestly, she's having trouble answering that herself, right up until she remembers the whole unspeakably-sick-thoughts part. 'It's complicated.'

And that's an understatement. They lapse back into an even less easy silence after that. In an attempt to get her thoughts in better order, she tries to focus on just breathing, on the movement of the air, the smell of the trees and all that jazz. Unfortunately, that's not a lesson she's ever been great at putting into practice, though. It'd always been the practical part of the martial arts that had struck a chord with her rather than the more meditative, spiritual stuff. Hadn't stopped her trainer trying, of course, the whole point of it was supposed to have been managing her anger rather than simply channeling it into a more effective form. Maybe if she could grasp it now though it might help; she has the feeling that Mako would probably approve.

There's barely any breeze today and, in spite of the shade beneath the trees, it's actually not especially chilly either. Has it really been less than a day since she was last out here? They stick to one of the lower paths, doing a shorter circuit by unspoken agreement, and Chuck has to admit that she starts to feel just a little better. Things are still pretty bleak, sure, but she's proved that she can face him, she can get through this. Maybe her refusal will have made him wake up to the stupidity of the idea, and at least there's no doubt that she does have it in her to be compatible now. So he can go find someone else, she can try again; this doesn't have to feel like the end of the world.

Though she has this feeling that she will only ever work with him, and honestly she doesn't want to feel that with anyone else.

'You do love him, don't you?'

A cold rush of fear goes down her spine; they couldn't- But then she processes the tone and rushes to cover up her guilty hesitation. Shit, if her mind goes there so easily how could she ever keep it out of the Drift? 'Course I do.'

'It might be hard to tell.' Mako says it deceptively mildly, and yeah, she can't argue.

'I know.' Chuck feels guilty enough without any prompting. Chewing the inside of one cheek, she's uncertain whether she should say more, practice explaining. 'But I just- I- It's a kind of, I don't know, defence mechanism, I guess.'

When she throws a look in her direction, Mako's expression is perplexed. She can practically see the older girl working it over in her head, trying to puzzle out her full meaning. 'But why?'

No matter how much she explains, this isn't going to be something that Mako ever understands. Especially when she can't even begin to cover half the reason. Fidgeting uneasily, she admits, sort of. 'It's just easier that way.'

Closing up, retreating back into her shell, that's the last she has to say on the subject. Bad idea. Too risky to continue, anyway the whole point of this little excursion was to _avoid_ thinking about Herc and the mess she's made of things. Feeling slightly worse again, typical, Chuck slows her pace as they return to the runway. Sometimes she finds it hard to believe her own words. What she's doing now is easier – _better_ \- in the long term, for the both of them. Even if she's hurting him and it makes her feel unbelievably shitty.

'What are you going to do?'

Her response is a limp shrug. 'Depends, I suppose. Sit tight and wait around for another try, if the Marshal lets me.'

There's a pointed hesitation before Mako asks; 'You wouldn't-'

' _No._ ' She knows the question that was coming, the meeker tone a dead giveaway. Something tells her she is going to get seriously sick of having to repeat that word awfully soon. It's starting to sound a lot less strong and a lot more choked with each reiteration too. 'I just... _can't._ '

Mako's about to respond, hopefully not with further questioning of her decision, when she stops dead with a soft ' _Oh_ '.

Oh, indeed. Herc is lounging patiently against the wall right by the barracks entrance – handsome as ever, _damn it_ \- and he has clearly clocked them. How did he-? Chuck glances at the other girl with a sense of betrayal, did she have anything to do with this? No, there's genuine surprise on her face, she didn't do this, not on purpose anyway.

Well, shit. Looks like her luck's even more short-lived than normal today. Yeah, she was inevitably going to have to at least _try_ and justify her point-blank refusal. Chuck just would have preferred having to do that with the Marshal, crazy as that sounds. His feelings don't matter to her in quite the same way.

Blowing out a breath, she gestures to Mako to hang back, this is something she needs to do on her own. Measuring her steps, so that they're not too dragging or too eager, Chuck crosses the expanse of tarmac. A little reluctantly, she comes to a halt a few paces from him, as near as she dares to go even when she wants so badly to close the gap completely. She doesn't look Herc in the eye, that's too difficult, so she ends up raking her gaze over the rest of him instead.

'We need to talk.'

'No, we don't.' That's a lie, and she knows he knows it. There's that word again too. It's becoming a reflex action and yes, her delivery is still getting less decisive. Why does this have to be so hard?

'Yes, we do.' He sighs and it's with that same old pained expression. 'It's been more than four years, Chuck, if nothing else just give me this.'

How can she deny that? How can she resist anything he asks of her when he says it like that, with that goddamn _look_? This is dangerous. It'd be so easy to let him talk her round, to throw caution to the wind and just do it for his sake. Still, it's better if she explains, even if it does mean that she has to somehow convince him - _remind_ him - that this is a mistake.

'Fine, just not out here.' Far too open a place to be having this conversation, she doesn't want, doesn't need, any witnesses to this inevitable train wreck.

'Fair enough.' Herc's response is resigned, and she really wishes it didn't have to be like this.

He turns to lead the way inside and she shoots one last look back at Mako, already starting to doubt her conviction. Could she have been completely wrong about his feelings all this time? It really feels like he wants this, that this isn't just the Marshal pushing him into giving her a shot for the sake of the program or whatever. But no, she can't get her hopes up, this simply cannot happen.

They don't talk, not yet, and Chuck spends the long walk taking sly glances at him. More than once she catches him looking back, probably to check that she's not going to do another runner. That feeling is back in her stomach, like butterflies in a whirlwind. It's still almost hard to believe that he's really right there next to her, in touching distance. No matter how she might act or what she might say, it feels so good just to be near him again. If only the Drift wasn't a thing then she could totally do this, anything but letting him into her head.

Things are a bit more lively in the corridors now. She's quite keenly aware of the looks and the lowered voices she can never quite catch. Doing her best to ignore them, she squares her shoulders and dares anyone to think her fazed. It's probably something that Herc doesn't even notice, Rangers get far more attention than this at regular intervals after all. But at least that's not people making judgements. Well, not in the same way.

Finally, after leaving the more populated areas behind, he stops at a door in the executive quarters. Oh, right, they're going to do this in his room. At least this means that the Marshal won't be supervising. The thought of bolting hits her a little too late, if she was going to do it she should've slipped away back when he wouldn't have immediately missed her. Besides, tense as she may be about having this conversation – hell, _any_ conversation – with him, she can't back out now. Running won't help anyone, she needs to make the break clean.

Almost as if guessing her vague ideas of flight, Herc gestures her through the door first, not taking any chances on her attempting to slip away while his back is turned. He knows her too well. And hell if that thought doesn't make this feel worse. Brushing past him as minimally as she can, because she does _not_ need to be thinking about that on top of everything, Chuck immediately moves to the furthest point in the room. She needs to keep as much distance between them as possible if she's going to stand a chance. The door shuts, sealing them in together in a space far more claustrophobic than the kwoon; no escape now.

Taking note of her decision not to sit her dad adopts a similar position, casually guarding the door while respecting the boundary she's set up. For a long moment neither of them says anything, her trying to look anywhere but at him while he keeps his eyes on her. Inevitably it's Herc who speaks first.

'What's the problem here?'

Oh, where to even begin? He certainly isn't going to beat around the bush here, not that she for one second thought he would. This won't be easy, if she'd had any doubt about that before.

Well, if he's going to be blunt then so will she. 'We can't Drift together.'

'That's not an answer. There's no _can't,_ this is a _won't_ and I want to know _why_.' An edge of frustration enters his voice, and shit, he certainly seems set on this.

' _Why?_ I just don't want you in my head, that's why.' It comes out far too aggressive; unfortunately, she's realising that may be the only way to get her point understood.

Herc doesn't even flinch. 'I don't believe that.'

'You damn well should. It's the truth.' Great comeback, so unquestionably convincing.

'No, I was there and I know what I felt. Compatibility like that doesn't happen unless both of you are invested in it. You were _in_ that spar, you were fine, you were with me, right up until we stopped.' Fucking logic. His head is too clear and it's all true anyway.

He takes a tentative step closer and _no_. 'Look, I know you-'

'You don't _know_ anything!' Chuck explodes, because she doesn't want to be doing this and why does he have to sound so damn reasonable and hurt and- _And if you felt like this then why didn't you come back for me?_ 'You think you can just waltz back into my life like everything's fine, but you _can't_. You're damn right it's been more than four years, four and half years of me trying not to think about you!'

He looks as if he's been slapped, not even trying to hide it. But his conviction doesn't waver at all, jaw clenching. 'You don't mean that.'

'Stop telling me what I do and don't mean!' It's so easy to get angry, fuck it's like she's been bottling this up ever since that awful day. Just why does he have to be so stubborn? Isn't it obvious how bad she is for him?

'Then stop lying to me!' A rise, finally.

'I'm. Not. Lying.' She's losing control of this, she wants to stop but she can't. Not if she's going to keep him safe from the things in her head. 'I'm not here to be your fucking _spare_. You can't just remember me when I'm convenient. You want me to be honest, then stop acting like you give a shit about me!'

At first neither of them seems to know where to go from that, silence stretching out with her ragged breathing. It's more than she was planning on saying, still too afraid that he won't counter it.

But the look on his face is more one of shock than agreement. Shaking his head, he reaches out. 'Of course I do. Chuck, I-'

'No! You _left_ me! You said you would come back!' Her eyes are stinging and she clenches her fists so hard it hurts. 'You want to know why we can't Drift? Well, it's because my head is _screwed up_ , all right! And that's all because of you!'

She doesn't dare to look at him again, heading for the door and wrenching it open. He doesn't even try to stop her. 'Talk over.'

It ends up as more of a slam than she intended when she pulls the door forcefully shut behind her. Fuck, if she hasn't burned that bridge good and well. Fisting her hands in her hair, Chuck paces to the other side of the hall, half-hoping that the door'll open, that he won't let her be the one to walk away. But it doesn't and he does.

Pacing a few more times back and forth, she finally tears herself away and goes to leave. It's over, she's won. Well fucking done. Clean break? Better? What shit.

'Oh _dear_ ,' an all-too-familiar voice abruptly pulls her up short, 'trouble in paradise, pipsqueak?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Chuck, you idiot... Well, I suppose things do always have to get worse before they get better, don't they?
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, awesome readers.


	11. Down, Not Out

So, apparently Ward's got nothing better to do than follow her around; isn't that just wonderful? As he strides over to block her way there's no doubting what he's here for. Of course she's not at all scared of the older cadet, they've done this same shit over and over and he's yet to beat her fairly. It's amazing that the wanker just doesn't get the message and keeps coming back for more. Even a formal warning from the Marshal hadn't been able to curb his craving for punishment; some egos just can't get over little things like being shown up by a fifteen-year-old girl.

That said, she is _really_ not in the mood for this right now.

Mouth curling in a particularly vicious sneer, Ward shoves right up into her personal space, just to make sure he has her full attention. 'Aw, why the long face? Daddy already getting cold feet?'

Chuck finds it impressive how much she finds herself not caring about this little scene he wants to kick up. Even if she wasn't up for it normally she'd have enough steam to come back with something. Today though? Today she's just _tired_. Drained and upset and full of regret. All she wants is to go, get away from here, lick her wounds and pretend that this whole mess hasn't happened. He can press whatever buttons he wants, it can't possibly make her feel any worse than she already does.

Not that Ward is going to oblige, of course, moving to block her as she silently sidesteps and attempts to go around him. It's that same old game, except this time he's the one who's really angry. 'Oh no, I want to know how you pulled this off. One day you're all but out of here and the next Daddy comes running to partner up with you. Bit of a fucking stretch, that, don't you think?'

'Bugger off, Ward.' It comes out weary, she just can't muster the fire to deal with him. This doesn't mean anything. All she has to do is step back, turn around and go the other way, easy.

'That's it?' He gives an ugly, almost demented laugh. 'That's really the best you can come up with, you smug little shit? God, you're _pathetic._ Why the fuck does anyone think you can handle a Jaeger?'

There certainly seems to be a lot more vitriol in Ward's attitude today and it's obvious why; he thinks she's cut him off. It goes without saying that an experienced pilot like Herc would get priority on the next assignment, especially when the first Mark-5 is Australian. And given the increasing lags between new launches, this was pretty much the best chance Ward, or any of the cadets in the intake, had at landing a real Conn-Pod. She doesn't doubt that he thought he was a shoo-in for it, delusional as that might be, so this has got to be a serious kick in the teeth. No wonder he's so pissy.

Of course, he's wrong about one thing. _That_ little detail obviously hasn't spread just yet. Field's still wide open, unless someone else gets partnered up with Herc that is. She can't help grimacing at the thought. He shouldn't have too much trouble with finding someone else, anyone would have to be mad not to jump at the chance of working with him. Fuck, it should be her. If that trial was anything to go by they'd make a great team but, shit, she can't risk it.

And she is done with this, gritting herself and heading back the other way. Chuck really doesn't need to risk getting into a fight today of all days, not when she's already on the Marshal's shit-list for earlier. She dreads to think what _he's_ going to have to say when he finally gets a hold of her. _That_ worries her, not any of Ward's bitching.

'Oh wait, I've got it!' The other cadet's voice rises, him making no move to follow her just yet. 'The only reason you're here is because your dad wants an easy lay!'

That stops her in her tracks, the venomous words hitting home for all of the wrong reasons. Clenching her fists until they hurt, she rounds back on him; 'Think you might be projecting there, dipstick. 'Sides, it's not like you ever stood a chance, is it? You talentless, dead-end bitch.'

In the moment that she watches him bristle furiously the sound of a door opening echoes clearly. _Oh no, not now._ On instinct, Chuck turns before she can think better of it.

' _You fucking c-_ '

There's a loud crack, a burst of pain and then she's on the floor with no memory of how she got down there. Head pounding like her brain's trying to burst out of her skull, she struggles to get her bearings. _That piece of shit_. Her first impulse is to get up, rip Ward a new one, but when she tries everything goes a bit black around the edges as a wave of nausea and vertigo hits her. Oh, _fuck._ Groaning in spite of herself, Chuck falls back against the wall and gives up on that, only becoming belatedly aware of a firm pressure that's pushing down on her shoulder.

'Don't try to move.'

Herc. When did he get out here? Shit, how long was she out? Oh, that _prick;_ fucking lucky shot. Wait, Dad? Why's he here? All this thinking isn't helping the throbbing in her head get any better and she flinches as his other hand starts probing it.

' _Hell._ ' He breathes the low word out. Cupping a hand under her chin he instructs; 'Look at me.'

Not especially wanting to comply, she nevertheless humours him, wincing slightly at the light. His expression is intense, scrutinising her but with an undeniable edge of worry. It just makes her doubt everything all over again. Her aching brain also helpfully clocks the fact that yep, he still looks really good.

''m fine.' If she was capable of waving him off she would, as it is she only manages the rather weak objection and a feeble attempt at batting him away. Hopefully she's not blushing again. Then again, the blood's probably busy elsewhere.

He rightfully ignores her protest. 'Do you feel sick?'

'Uh,' Chuck has to stop and think about that. It's coming and going, though not so much when she's staying still. The honest response comes out while she's still trying to weigh it up. 'Kinda.'

'What day is it?'

She blinks slowly. 'What?'

'What day is it?' This time he enunciates it slowly, sounding more anxious than annoyed.

'July?' Somehow it ends up coming out as more of a question than a statement, with the look on his face driving away any confidence she has in her answer. An interrogation isn't what she expected their next conversation to be. Actually, she's not entirely sure she thought there was ever going to _be_ a next conversation.

Herc frowns; apparently that really wasn't the right answer. 'Where are we?'

'North.' That feels at least a bit more like she's on the right line.

His worried look fails to go away, however, and he takes a few moments longer to consider his next question. 'And I am?'

 _Seriously?_ Ache in her head still refusing to go away, the discomfort of her position starting to get to her, Chuck squirms. She doesn't like the way this is all going. Do they really have to do this right now, out here? It's embarrassing, not to mention all kinds of painful.

'Good, you're good.' Now this one she's certain about.

Her instinct seems to be correct as that answer seems to have the biggest effect yet, actually earning her something close to a smile. She doesn't get long to appreciate it, though, a particularly strong throb of pain making her groan and try to curl in on herself. Why won't it just stop hurting already?

An unhappy noise draws her attention away from her pounding head and when did Herc get here? 'Right, you're not staying down here.'

While she's still busy trying to figure out just what is going on here, and how she got on the floor in the first place, he goes and carefully scoops her up. Chuck makes an indignant noise of protest at the treatment – _no, no, picking up is seriously not allowed_ – even as she finds herself burrowing closer into the hold. Shit, he smells good. As undignified as it is, she rather likes this development.

Hadn't they just had a fight, though? Shouldn't he be upset with her right now?

Apparently not having any such problems, Herc wastes no time in carrying her back to his room. Door's been left wide open; he needs to work on his security, she dimly thinks, anyone could walk right on in. That's a very bad thing. He doesn't bother to close it after him either, _seriously_ , instead taking her straight over to the bed and doing his best to set her down gently. She doesn't entirely make that easy, rather resistant to the idea of letting go of him and his warmth now that she's finally got her claws in. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on perspective, Chuck is unwillingly pliant in her current state and doesn't have all that secure a grip in the first place.

Hopefully her mortifyingly embarrassing whine is written off as another response to the pain rather than clinginess. This just keeps getting worse. Oh, she is going to _murder_ Ward for this. Wait, where has that piss-head _gone_ anyway?

The door shuts with a clang that reverberates in her skull, making her curl in on herself in an entirely too late attempt to shield it. She's had injuries before, had plenty of headaches, but this one really takes the cake. How is she supposed to think like this? It'd better not last long. Shit, she must look utterly pathetic.

'Don't fall asleep.' The mattress dips as Herc takes a seat, his voice low possibly to avoid exacerbating her headache.

It's impossible not to snort; that's the least of her worries. 'T's not a problem.'

He rubs a hand slowly along her spine. 'Think you can sit up a minute?'

Honestly, she doesn't know. But, rather than wasting energy saying that, Chuck instead skips straight to the trying to push herself up part. It'd probably be at least a bit easier on a less soft, squishy surface, then she wouldn't need him to intervene and help her get the last of the way into a sitting position. The dizziness that comes with the renewed movement doesn't make matters any better, if it weren't for him she'd be lying straight back down again, to hell with appearances.

Holding onto her shoulder to make sure she's steady, he waits a moment before passing her a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. Perfect, damn him. Chuck takes them gratefully, wondering what she's done to deserve this and pointedly ignoring the warm feel of his hand on her shoulder.

Once she's sunk back down into the mattress Herc gets up, taking away the empty glass. Closing her eyes, safe in the knowledge that sleep is impossible when her brain is still battering itself against her skull, she breathes in deeply. He has a good pillow, nice and thick, so the executive quarters _are_ better. Even after just the one night it smells like him. Hmm, maybe if she just nestles down here the ache will go away faster. All she needs is to get him to join her and-

A sudden cold presses against the side of her head, making Chuck start out of her increasing sense of comfort as she attempts to jerk away from it. Unfortunately Herc's pretty persistent and she's not exactly at her most mobile right now. So, failing that she weakly bats at the hand that continues to firmly hold the icepack in place with a plaintive whine.

'Sh, this'll help.'

Even if she didn't trust his word – which she does – it's not like she has much of a choice in the matter anyway. Still, she does stop squirming, a warm feeling stirring inside her. Were it not for the headache she might be inclined to write this off as another dream. Or maybe it's just a pain-induced hallucination. She seriously hopes that's not it.

But didn't they fight? Didn't she viciously push him away just minutes ago? Why is he being so good to her? First he wants to Drift and now this, looking after her and being all kinds of gentle and concerned. Oh, this is bad, she can practically _feel_ her sick crush getting worse.

'Hey, eyes open.'

Oops, Chuck hadn't even realised she'd closed them. It's not her fault he has such a nice bed.

'Feeling any better?'

'A bit.' She gives a very small sort of nod; the ache's definitely started to dull down, doesn't feel particularly nauseous anymore either.

'Good.' A slight smile flickers across Herc's face, although it's quickly replaced by a more reproachful expression. 'Now, what happened out there?'

'Uh...' That's a very good question. Inspecting the dull grey ceiling she takes a moment to think about it, getting her thoughts into some sort of sensible order. Everything today is going in one big circle, coming back to her dad and the Drift compatibility. Not that she'll say _that_. 'I guess he punched me while my back was turned.'

His eyes narrow dangerously. 'Who?'

'Ward. He's always an ass, just extra bitchy today.' Chuck vaguely waves a hand as if that offers something to the explanation.

'And I don't suppose you'd have any idea why?' There's an undertone to his words, though it's not quite accusatory.

Pressing her head into the pillow unhappily, feeling regret but not for anything she'd said to the other cadet, she mumbles; 'Just pissing everyone off today, I guess.'

Herc doesn't offer any response to that, she's not even sure he actually heard her dejected admission. It's not much of an apology, but... She still wants to take back what had happened between them earlier. _Damn it,_ it's supposed to be for the best. They absolutely can't Drift. She's doing this to protect him, for his sake, like she always has. It doesn't matter if it means she has to wreck her chance at any sort of relationship with him. Why does he have to be so- _him,_ though?

The silence stretches on, although a cautious glance at his face suggests that he's wrestling with something. Then he sighs heavily and her stomach clenches in anticipation. 'It really feels like something's getting lost in translation here. Chuck, why do you think I don't care about you?'

'Why?' Fortunately it's been getting easier to think since those pain killers, or else she's not sure he'd get a particularly satisfying answer. This is heading out into dangerous ground, and she needs to watch her words. Though, honestly, he's really been making a strong case to the contrary here, but- 'You- you never came back.'

He gives her a look that's equal parts unhappy and confused. 'I thought you didn't want me to.'

'What?' It comes out far quieter than she means it to, but how could he think that? No, no, no; that'd mean-

'You wouldn't even _speak_ to me. I knew you needed the space, and I tried- Not a day went by that I didn't think about you, but I was just trying to do what was best for you. I never meant...'

Shaking his head with a wry expression, he forces himself to continue. 'When Stacker suggested this I couldn't resist, it was such a convenient excuse. He said that you didn't... This was never about using you as a replacement, I came here because it was my best chance of just seeing you again. It was selfish.'

Well, _fuck._ Chuck absolutely hates how torn up he looks, sounds, clearly _is_ about this whole mess, _her_ mess. She was wrong. He- he _missed_ her. Genuinely, actually, missed her. Things are starting to click into place and now her heart aches almost worse than her head, because all this time he'd been waiting for her.

Years of watching from afar and hoping, thinking that she was the one giving him space, letting him have time to try and forgive her. Denying everything she wanted most for his sake and it was all completely the wrong way round? All this time... If she'd only given in, he would've welcomed her back?

Just how many times had Gran blocked him?

A crushing weight is pressing down on her mind and it has nothing to do with the punch or the head injury. Oh, fuck, what has she _done?_ This is all her fault, can't even protect him right. Chuck really doesn't want to cry – she's such an ugly crier - but this is too much. She's already a fucking mess anyway. 

Decidedly unsure and unhappy, Herc seems to waver for a moment, starting to move closer before abruptly backing off. With more speed than she thought she was currently capable of, Chuck grabs a handful of shirt and holds tight. Levering herself up into a sitting position with only a slight wince, she refuses to let go until he meets her eyes.

'Don't you _dare_ say that.' Her voice is fierce as she ignores the increasing dampness of her cheeks and the pounding in her temples. This is too damn important. Fuck everything, she is setting him straight. That god-damn look. 'I was waiting for you. _Every single day_. All I wanted was for you to come back but _I_ was giving _you_ space. Because you were unhappy and because I- because saving me was a mistake.'

Dropping her head, she releases her death-grip so that he's free to push her and her disgusting self-pity away. Now the tears have started she can't stop, sobbing out; 'I'm so _sorry._ '

Because who could really deny that she'd ruined her dad's life? If it weren't for her then Mum would still be alive and everyone would be happier. Shit, she feels more sick and exhausted than ever. This stupid crying isn't helping her head at all.

What a fucking mess she's made.

'No. _No,_ don't you apologise.' Taking her by surprise, he pulls her closer, wrapping her in a fierce hug. _Oh._ 'You have _nothing_ to say sorry for. You are _not_ a mistake. If I'd had any idea- I should never have let it go on this long, I'm sorry.'

'I've missed you _so much._ ' She closes her eyes and breathes the words into his shoulder, holding onto him for dear life. The weight of all those days, weeks, _years_ of absence is coming crashing down on her; all of it for nothing. It's more than she's ever let herself feel and fuck, she can't push him away again. Screw selflessness, so far that's clearly only hurt them both.

Someway, somehow, she is going to make this work. There's no other choice anymore, not when he's holding her like he doesn't plan on letting go. She loves him - _too much_ \- and he loves her back - just not that way. This is more than she ever thought she could get, it's more than enough. It has to be. These feelings will go away, she will _make_ them go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'll be damned, it looks like Ward actually ended up making a positive contribution, in a very roundabout sort of way. Still, something tells me that Chuck is really going to struggle with that resolution of hers...
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, you awesome people.


	12. Sweet Dreams

'C'mon, wake up.'

There's an insistent hand on her face which she can't ignore, much as she tries to. Groaning, Chuck reluctantly opens her eyes, pretty sure that this is the groggiest she's ever felt in her life. Why is she awake? Her head hurts and all she wants is to go back to sleep, sleep doesn't hurt.

'Don't blame me, I need to check.'

Blinking slowly, more than slightly confused, she tries to piece things together. Where? What? This isn't her bed, that's obvious; it doesn't feel at all the same and she normally sleeps on her other side anyway. It's comfier too, even though she realises that she's still fully dressed. Funny, must have crashed out. The lights are down relatively low – well, duh, sleeping – but it's not completely dark. From the signs of it the room's a single, she can't make out another bed across from her. Definitely not her quarters then. This is odd.

A throat clears and she belatedly remembers that she's not actually alone here. Sitting next to her on the mattress, watching and absently stroking her hair, is Herc. Ah, right. Memories click abruptly back into place and oh fuck, she'd cried on him. Like _really_ cried. And yeah, there had also been some seriously nice hugging in there as well, but that doesn't change the fact that she'd gone all embarrassingly emotional.

This just isn't her day, is it? Making an idiot of herself in front of him like that, real smooth. With a disgusted grumble she pushes her head further back into the pillow, considering whether it might be worth sticking it over her face as she feels the heat start to rise in her cheeks.

'Hey, none of that; look at me.' Scolding gently, he tips her chin back in his direction. 'What day is it?'

Medical interrogation, joy of joys. At least it's an easy enough question, even if she does have to think about it for a minute. Sighing, Chuck complies, trying not to look him directly in the eyes all the same with her cheeks still definitely burning. 'It's Wednesday.'

'And where are we?'

'Your room.'

'How did you get here?'

Oh for fuck's sake, is he seriously going to rub that in? Patience for this test already used up, she responds with more of a mumble; 'You carried me.'

The light may not be the best but she's sure he smiles slightly at that, bastard. Stupid, attractive bastard. 'Which I did because?'

'Oh, _shut up._ ' Chuck ducks her head, seeking solace in the pillow. Right now is making it all the clearer just how much she's been missing out on. That stings, much as it brings warmth to her thoughts.

Apparently satisfied, he changes tack. 'Feeling better then?'

'A bit, still aches.' Shifting, she tries to make herself more comfortable.

This is starting to feel like another dream. It certainly wouldn't be the first time her sleeping mind had summoned him up to do nothing but sit and talk to her, to act like nothing had happened and make her feel better about everything. Not every one was like that, sure, but more than a few were. Though more often than not she would end up feeling worse about it all once she woke up. Didn't usually involve so much head trauma and falling asleep either.

Had he ever dreamed about her? That's probably not a thought she should be indulging. Like, _really_ not. Damn it, if she can just push all that terrible shit away for long enough then maybe it'll stay gone. It's not like she _wants_ to feel like this.

'Hey, don't go drifting back off just yet.' He really needs to stop stroking her hair like this, it's making her melt. How is she supposed to stop mooning over him when he insists on being all affectionate?

'Nah, I'm up now.' Shrugging him off, much as she doesn't entirely want to, Chuck pushes herself up into more of a sitting position. Damage control.

Besides, now that she's actually awake she doesn't particularly feel like dozing off again. Not least because she's sure he'd be waking her up in next to no time anyway. Concussion precautions and all that.

Stretching slightly, trying to banish the last traces of grogginess, she asks; 'How long was I out?'

'About fifteen minutes.' While he doesn't seem entirely keen on her sitting up Herc doesn't do anything to stop her. Though she gets the feeling that he'll push her straight back down at the first sign of anything wrong.

Only fifteen minutes? Impressive that she doesn't feel more shitty, considering. It's not as if she's running on a massively good night's sleep here, after all.

By now the entire Academy must know about their compatibility trial, and she has little doubt that Ward has already gone to start bigging himself up over that lucky hit. Finally got one over on her and all that... Damn, it's going to be a while before she's in a fit state to go get the shit-head. Screw the higher road, like hell is she going to let him get away with fucking concussing her.

'Safe to say I'm not going into a coma anytime soon then?'

'It was a hard hit, I'm not taking any chances.' He shakes his head, jaw clenching. 'When I get hold of that-'

'When _you_ get hold of him?' Oh no, that son of a bitch is _hers_. This has always been her fight, that doesn't change just because her dad's got a protective streak.

'Well, you're certainly not going anywhere in your current condition.' Herc crosses his arms, offering no room for argument. 'Besides, you shouldn't be going around getting into any more fights.'

She narrows her eyes at him, not sure whether to be insulted or touched. 'Oh really?'

He nods, annoyingly assured in his own rightness. 'Wouldn't want you getting yourself disqualified from the program, now would we?'

Almost as an afterthought he seems to catch up with the implications of the comment, wincing. Back to the crux of the matter at last. Though it wasn't the major motive behind him coming here the idea is clearly still playing on his mind. Just as it is hers.

'Uh,' Chuck shuffles awkwardly, not quite sure how she's supposed to come out with this. 'About that-'

More of the ease seems to retreat from his demeanour, as Herc saves her the trouble of dragging it out. 'Look, I'll understand if it's too much to ask, but... could we at least give this a try?'

 _This_. Much as her heart temporarily skips a beat, she knows what he means; Drifting. He actually wants to, that's pretty damn clear, it's not just the Marshal pushing him into giving her a chance. But- he doesn't know what her head's like. He has no idea of the things she thinks about him. Even aside from that, it's not sunshine and roses, which she's painfully aware of.

Then again, people like Ward are fine for it and he can't have the most pleasant brain in the world. Hell, Scott spent a couple of years Drifting before it ended up falling apart. And she doubts his mind was really all that much better than hers. Well, hugely inappropriate feelings aside. She _did_ pass the personality screens and the psych evaluation after all. It can't be that bad, there has to be some limit, or else how would anyone ever get anywhere with it. The whole program would be a write-off.

Still, there's things she's really not sure that she wants him to see. How much can someone keep out of the Drift? No-one's ever given her a definitive answer on that; nothing, some things, anything you can avoid thinking about during. The only answer she can be sure of is that there's a definite chance that unwanted shit could get into it. And that's fine, if absolutely necessary she could deal with that. Just... she's not sure that Herc could brush it off as much as someone who's not, you know, so connected to it all. That old urge to shield him from herself keeps holding her back.

Yet there's no denying that she'd like to at least _try_. There _is_ a good chance that it might not ever come up, especially if she can just get a handle on her thoughts. She vividly remembers the rush of that spar, how much better would it be to Drift with him? It feels _right_.

'Well, I- I mean, _yeah_.' Chuck doesn't bother to hide the enthusiasm in her voice, although she quickly tries to backtrack. Can't let herself get too soft. 'If you think you can keep up, that is.'

'Careful, I wasn't the one who ended that spar on the floor, was I?' While Herc makes an effort to cover it up there's no missing the relief he feels on hearing her affirmative.

And doesn't that thought just make her feel all warm and gooey inside? Shit, she's in deep. This is really going to be one hell of an uphill struggle, isn't it?

Almost as if he's reading her thoughts, he turns more serious. 'For this to work you're going to have to trust me, though.'

'I know.' Chuck looks down at her knees, purposely avoiding meeting his eyes. It's not that she doesn't trust him, it's more that she doesn't trust herself.

'It'll take some getting used to, but it gets easier with practice. You just have to try and be open to it.' Aiming for reassurance, he gives her arm a rub. 'Believe me, after that compatibility trial, the potential's there.'

Yeah, that really had been something else, hadn't it? Honestly, it's good to know that he genuinely did feel that too. Even if-

It's only her that jumps when a very no-nonsense knock abruptly sounds at the door. Oh _no_. Chuck has a really bad feeling that she knows exactly who that is. Of course the Marshal would make a bee-line here as soon as he got the first whiff of what happened, shit.

Instinct has her almost immediately swinging her feet over the side of the bed, there is no way she is getting caught like this. Lounging around all pathetically in her dad's bed when it's just him seeing it is one thing, but for anyone else to witness it is not acceptable. Especially if it's the Marshal. Problem is, her legs don't feel even remotely steady and she knows better than to risk her luck standing now. The last thing she needs is to go falling over in front of both of them. So, sitting it is.

Already having answered the door, Herc glances back at her and makes an exasperated noise. Inviting the other man in, he doesn't waste any time returning to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder just to make sure she doesn't try anything else. He's really taking this looking after her thing seriously, it's sweet but she'd rather not have him doing that in front of the Marshal. Anyway, haven't they already established that she's not about to keel over from a concussion? He doesn't _have_ to watch her every second. It's making her feel all kinds of _things_. Chuck furiously fails at willing herself not to start blushing, again. Fucking redhead genes.

Walking right on in as if he owns the place - which he kind of does, but still - Pentecost doesn't look his happiest. Although he doesn't choose to comment on her disheveled appearance or lack of standing he cuts straight to the chase. 'I understand you've been in another fight, cadet.'

Shit, he'd better not be here to kick her out after she's finally-

'She was walking away.' Herc jumps in with the very defence she'd been about to try offering up, tone turning decidedly more angry as he continues; 'This could've been a serious injury. You'd better be dealing with the one responsible.'

There he goes, getting all protective again. She'd find it a lot more appealing if he wasn't trying to muscle in on her territory.

'Malcolm Ward has already been dismissed from the Defence Corps. He'll be gone by the end of the day.' Unfazed by this response, there is nevertheless a note of warning in the Marshal's voice as he looks between the two of them. 'Of course, in the interests of safety I'm sure you will both be staying here until tomorrow.'

What is this, house arrest? Well, yeah, she does have to admit that it might be a good idea not to let either of them get within striking distance of Ward. Doesn't make it any less galling that she won't get the chance to at least even the score, though. _Come on,_ she isn't hurt anywhere near that badly. Chuck opens her mouth to protest but her dad beats her to it again. Seriously, she's right here.

'Naturally, I'm not taking any risks. If nothing happens we'll go down to medical in the morning.'

They stare each other down for a long moment before the Marshal nods brusquely. 'Good. Then we can put this all behind us without a problem.'

He directs a pointed look at her and it's hard not to bristle. It's not like she exactly provoked the wanker, other than by existing. Nevertheless, she gives him a small nod of reluctant acquiescence. 'Yes, sir.'

Satisfied with her compliance – it's pretty obvious that Herc hasn't got any intention of letting her go anywhere after all – the Marshal finishes up by turning to a less unpleasant subject. 'All right, now that you've had a chance to sort out your differences, we can discuss the next step once you're in slightly better shape.'

It's funny how keen he seems to be to get her in a Conn-Pod like this, seeing how he's never seemed overly fond of her. Maybe it's more for her dad's sake, or maybe he just thinks that she'd make a good Ranger. Who knows?

As abruptly as he'd arrived Pentecost shows himself out again, piece said. He's got a facility to run, after all, can't spend all his time meddling in one cadet's life. The door closes and they're alone again. It's amazing how quickly that's started to feel like the most natural thing in the world. While she's not feeling too terrible now, Chuck is relieved to be able to let her posture slump a bit more. Keeping up a strong front isn't the easiest of tasks, possibly also somewhat futile, but for the sake of her pride she has to at least attempt it.

A hand lands back on her shoulder, nothing left to distract Herc from the task of looking after her. 'Come on, you're still supposed to be resting.'

'Sitting's resting.' With a one-armed shrug, she says it more to be contrary than out of genuine disagreement.

His response is simply to steer her back onto the mattress. Something tells her that she won't be allowed to do much getting up over the next few hours. If it weren't for the niceness of the bed or the company she'd probably be a lot more unhappy about this situation. Probably helps that she's already starting to feel kind of tired again. Hopefully that's more the general fatigue catching up with her than the head injury.

Snuggling down, totally not curling around him once he sits down, she finds herself relaxing. Yeah, sleep is a good idea. But- 'You're gonna wake me up again, aren't you?'

'I'll have to.' Herc does at least have the decency to sound apologetic about it.

'Gonna be a long day.' Grumbling into the pillow, Chuck's not entirely put out by that. Especially if it involves more stroking. A few sluggish moments later, though, a thought strikes her; 'Wait, where are you supposed to sleep?'

Unfazed by the problem, he easily dismisses her concern. 'I'll manage.'

'I can move over.' The suggestion pops out before she really thinks it through. While this is one of the executive quarters it's still not a massively wide bed. It's bigger than the standard single, yes, but not so much so that it could easily accommodate two people lying down. Well, not unless they wanted to be very much in each other's space.

If he thinks anything of the idea he doesn't give it away. 'That's okay, you get some rest now.'

It's far too easy to just do as he says, she's really going to have to work on that. Stupid head injury.

-

'I'm _fine_.'

For what feels like the dozenth time she digs her heels in and tries to shoot off in another direction. Medical is really not somewhere she wants to go, ever. It'd been bad enough when she'd just had to go there for the mandated tests, this'll be a dozen times worse. Fucking questions, endless poking and all that shit...

Nope, she is _not_ going there.

Unfortunately Herc's not having any of that, keeping a firm grip on her shoulder and propelling her onward. 'You were concussed-'

'And now I'm not!' She growls, even though this strategy clearly isn't working.

'They still need to check you over.' He keeps trying to make it sound reasonable, but that won't work. If she was going to keel over she would've done it already.

' _Dad_ , seriously...'

That makes him pause, giving her an odd look. What did she- _Oh._ A split-second later it dawns on her, it's the first time she's called him that since he arrived here. Still, Chuck can't quite resist exploiting the opportunity to make another break for it.

Which naturally just snaps him right back out of it, ending up getting an even stronger hold on her. 'Nice try.'

Although she doesn't entirely give up on her attempts to wriggle free after that it's not long before he's shepherding her through the last door and into medical. While it's not all that much of a departure from the aesthetic of the rest of the Academy, the place instantly sets her on edge. Just hospitals and shit, they've always made her blood run cold, all sterile and unpleasant and horrible to be in.

Clearly expecting her, one of the docs stands waiting, pad in hand, and smiles.

A knee-jerk reaction has her instantly blurting; 'I'm fine.'

'Uh-huh.' The woman's expression makes it clear that she doesn't buy that for a second, and that's what she hates about these sort of people. They never bother to _listen_. 'Well, I suppose if you're fine then there's no harm in me giving you a check-over, now is there?'

'Exactly.' Herc gets it in before she can get another word out or turn around to leave, giving her a light push and not taking his hand off her for a second. Traitor.

Unless she wants to go ahead and cause a scene Chuck has no real choice but to go along with it. But that certainly doesn't mean that she has to be happy about this, shooting a sour look at him. Doctors always fucking overreact to _everything_ , she'll be lucky if they don't try to insist on her staying here to lie down for another day. And like hell is that happening.

Leading the way into one of the smaller examination rooms, the doctor doesn't change her no-nonsense tone. 'Okay, hop up on the table and I can take a look.'

 _Hop_. Yeah, _no_. Making no effort to hide what she thinks of this whole thing, Chuck begrudgingly takes a seat. The less she argues the quicker she can get back out of here. That and she has enough dignity left to not want to risk prompting a certain someone to intervene again. Hanging back, Herc quietly stands guard over the door, just to make it clear she isn't going to be leaving before the doctor's done.

'So, I understand that you sustained a blow to the back of the head, with possible symptoms of concussion...' 

There's a pause as the doctor waits for her to confirm the statement. Glaring at her, Chuck refuses to play along, it's not like she doesn't obviously know the details already. Of course, then the woman just glances over at Herc for some sort of verification instead. Now they're teaming up against her, great.

From there it's a pretty straightforward examination, with plenty of prodding, shining a light into her eyes and 'does _this_ hurt?'. Biting the inside of one cheek, she keeps her hands locked onto the edge of the table, rigid even as she goes along with it. Doesn't matter how many ways she asserts that it's not a problem anymore, the doc never takes her word for it. It's all frustrating as fuck and she wishes her dad didn't have to just loiter around watching, she's too toey to take any particular comfort from his presence.

'All right,' finally the doctor steps back, 'doesn't look like there's any lasting damage.'

'Not like I've been telling you that for the last ten minutes.' Chuck mutters bitterly, not that she especially cares if the woman hears it. Probably just tunes out her voice by default anyway.

Ignoring her, as per usual, the doctor announces, just to spite her; 'Of course, we'll have to run a scan just to be sure.'

' _What?_ '

'It's an additional precaution, and especially important if you're going to be Drifting.' She explains, looking between the two of them. 'Head injuries can be tricky things, we need to make sure that the blow hasn't affected your brain in any way that could cause problems during the neural handshake.'

Oh, come on, _really?_ Stupid, goddamn, sadistic doctors.

While her dad's expression has turned positively murderous she has the feeling that it's more directed at the root cause of this lovely little situation than the idea of the scan itself. Although the doctor is very quick to repeat the assurance that this is just a standard, precautionary measure, nothing to worry about.

'Okay, whatever.' What little patience she had all used up, Chuck launches herself to her feet and heads in the direction of the scan room. 'Just get it over with.'

Her sudden cooperativeness appears to take the doctor by surprise, although she gets over it fast enough. Chuck knows when it's faster not to argue, and honestly whatever gets her out of here quicker at this stage. Not that there's any speeding up a brain scan, of course, the machine has to take its own sweet time. 

Half an hour. 

The bloody thing takes _half an hour_ , and that doesn't even include hanging around waiting for the actual results to come through. It's not like she actually believes that there can be that much damage but before long she starts to go slightly stir-crazy.

'Sit down.' Tired of watching her pace restlessly back and forth like a caged tiger, Herc finally decides to put his foot down.

'Nope.'

'You're pacing a rut into the floor.' Patting the chair next to him, he warns; 'Now you can sit down willingly or I can make you.'

She doesn't for one second doubt that he will. With a sigh, Chuck stalks over and drops gracelessly into the indicated seat. Stupid fucking waiting, she hates this place.

For a long moment it seems like he's going to leave it at that, but that's just wishful thinking. 'Is this really making you that nervous?'

Her instinct is to clam up, don't admit the weakness. But then she reminds herself that if this Drifting thing is going to work out between them she's going to need to be more open. So, glaring at the floor, she shrugs. 'I guess, it's just... you know, medical stuff. Fucking hate it.'

'There any particular reason why?' Behind his gentle prompting she can distinguish the deeper question, conscious of the rather intent way he's watching her.

Course there's a reason, she's not completely irrational. Still, Chuck fidgets, this isn't something she wants to go into here. No heart-to-hearts are happening in a medical office, ever. Fortunately he doesn't particularly try to push her on it, allowing the doctor to come waltzing back in before she has to start dancing around an actual answer. It's probably the only time in her life that she's ever going to be actively glad to see a medical professional.

'Good news, you're all clear.' Taking a sudden turn of understanding, the doc glances at her notes and cuts straight to the chase. 'I'm advising that you don't attempt a Drift for at least a couple of days, and just try to take it easy. No more blows to the head for the time being, okay?'

Well, what d'you know? It's almost like she was right this whole damn time.

'Sure thing.' Wasting no time, Chuck's up and heading for the door before the doctor's even finished talking. _Finally_. Yeah, definitely not coming back here any time soon.

Despite him hanging back a moment to thank the doctor - _for what, an hour of needless torment?_ \- Herc still catches back up with her quickly enough.

'You know, I think you're cleared of babysitting me now.' Not quite done being annoyed with this whole palaver, Chuck can't help throwing out the sullen dismissal.

'Maybe,' he happily ignores the bait, 'but we're heading in the same direction anyway.'

She raises an eyebrow at that; _we're not at the mind-reading stage just yet, Dad._

'Mess, breakfast.' It's clear he isn't going to take no for an answer.

Just being out of medical is making the tension drain rapidly out of her so she isn't particularly inclined to argue the matter, following him without complaint. That and she's probably had enough manhandling for one day. Honestly Chuck's amazed that he's not got sick of her already, just because _she_ has the urge to trail after him like a lost puppy doesn't mean he's going to be anywhere near as desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that one got a little bit away from me there. ^^; But, on the upside, plenty of bonding and no permanent brain damage! Rather looks like the two of them might be all set to Drift together now, doesn't it?
> 
> Many thanks for stopping by, awesome readers.


	13. Rabbit Hole

Crouched on her heels, Chuck stares down the toilet bowl. There's nothing much left in her stomach to bring up other than acid, but knowing that isn't enough to stop her feeling nauseous. Last night she'd managed to tire herself out enough to sleep – thanks to a solitary midnight session with the punching bag – that's something. Going into this both sick with nerves _and_ tired would be a really bad idea.

The real problem is that she's had far too long to let the reality of what she's agreed to sink in, which has given her way too much time to start second-guessing herself. Maybe this isn't something they should do. Maybe it'd be better if she just, you know, didn't Drift. That wouldn't really be so hard, surely. Just go out there and tell them that she's changed her mind. Again. Yeah, that isn't an option. Not least because she refuses to back down, not when Herc's still clearly willing to go ahead. She owes him that much, at least.

Does everyone get this nervous before their first Drift? Because it's seriously proving all too easy to psych herself out right now. On several occasions Instructor Mitchell had taken great pains to deliver warnings about the modesty reflex and its counteractive relationship to a successful mental partnership. Drifting doesn't require a person's every memory and experience to be immediately known to their co-pilot, of course, but that doesn't mean anything can be reliably kept secret. Active resistance to the sharing process can, and will, derail the bond. There's simply no telling what will and won't come up, so you have to be willing to see and share anything. Chances do dictate that the only thing she really needs to hide probably won't make it in, at least not this time, but there's still that slim possibility.

It doesn't matter how many times he says it, Herc can't guarantee that he won't be repulsed by what's in her head. Chuck is nowhere near secure enough in the strength of his care for her to believe that it couldn't be so easily destroyed. How could he really do anything but hate her if any of that shit gets into the Drift?

Shit, _calm down_. It's just a test run. Won't last more than a couple of minutes, they just need to see if it'll actually hold. One last box to tick off before the partnership becomes official. There's no Jaeger involved in the equation, this time, just the simulator. Not that big a deal, not much to worry about at all...

Just mind-melding with her dad.

The very same person that she keeps having all of these seriously fucked up thoughts about.

Groaning, Chuck brings her head down on the rim of the bowl, hitting it a couple more times for good measure. If it hadn't been for her brush with a concussion this would've already been over and done with. The Marshal seems pretty damn keen to get the ball rolling now that he's got them together, what with the Mark-5 as far along in production as it is. It's all an unspoken conclusion, was probably the plan all along, so long as this works out.

With ridiculous regularity her confidence in the matter has flipped back and forth between poles over the last few days. Honestly, if it weren't for Herc and her own ridiculous urge to please him she would have backed out five times over by now. Mako's also been doing her best to reassure the younger girl, in spite of her own lack of experience with the Drift, persistently poking her back round to the idea. _You should give it a chance, that can't hurt_.

Her alarm finally goes off, panic time's over, she needs to get moving if she's not going to be late. And it doesn't matter how much trepidation she may have about what'll happen once she's there, she ain't turning up late. As Chuck pulls on her jacket she can't help thinking that it'll be a lot less easy to run off this time. She'd have to abandon a lot more of her clothing, and be indefinitely stuck in a Drivesuit to boot.

Since last week the corridor has been more dead than ever before, which is really more of a relief than anything. Peace, quiet, and the competition's all but over. It's down to just four now, the Chus and Taro still sticking around, even if the other solo cadet stands to be further left behind after today. Still, he seems content to wait for another chance, when the next batch catches up. Nobody misses Ward who, true to the Marshal's word, had been removed from the facility long before she'd been allowed out of Herc's room. Good riddance, even if she wishes she could have got one last punch in for the road.

Less pleasingly, all of the looks and the comments have gone and increased again. She definitely gets the feeling that this has undone some of the work she'd put in establishing her right to be here on her own merits. To be fair, she does now know that the Marshal probably only let her in to be trained up as a replacement partner for her dad. Can't entirely blame anyone else for coming to the same natural conclusion. Although, as Herc has carefully explained on more than one occasion, family or not, she never would've gotten anywhere near this far if she hadn't been good enough. That's always a lot easier to believe when he's right there and looking at her like she's something special.

Still, plenty of opportunity left to screw it all up on her own.

On the way to the simulator suite Chuck shoots off a couple of glares, trying and failing to keep the tension out of her shoulders. Doesn't help her nerves that there's going to be more of an audience today, more witnesses if she fucks this up. Well, true, there's only one person who really matters to her if this thing goes south. Not least because he'll be the only one with the first-hand view of it.

 _Just think happy thoughts_ ; it's a mantra she's been trying to drum into her brain since she woke up. Damage control. If she can just avoid thinking about the worst things that should hopefully keep them out of the way, for now. There won't be time for him to see everything after all. It's an admittedly ropey theory but it's the best she's got to hold on to here, other than taking a diversion to go and throw up.

Her plan to stop and have a final, nerve-calming breather outside the Drivesuit Room is somewhat ruined by the fact that her dad's already standing there waiting for her. Just him, though, which is good as she doesn't really think she wants a pep talk from the Marshal going into this. She's anxious enough without being reminded all over again of the gravity of this test.

'Nervous?'

Choosing to become suddenly fascinated with the ceiling rather than looking at him, she tries to sound breezy; 'Not at all.'

Evidently not believing that for a second – and what's the point in lying anyway, he's going to _know_ once they Drift – Herc moves over to plant a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'Don't worry, you'll do fine. Just relax.'

Much easier said than done. After all, he's done this _dozens_ of times before whereas she's never shared her headspace with anyone else. It's almost a little off-putting just how totally unfazed he seems to be, like this isn't really quite a big deal. Because this is still a first for him as well at the end of the day. How is he so calm?

But she tries. She really does, pushing all the nerves down and calming her mind and all that shit. Of course, as soon as he turns away the tension comes surging right back in. This is too damn important to relax about. _Happy thoughts_.

Obviously this isn't the first time she's been in the Drivesuit Room, it'd seemed like every other day this trimester she'd been up here. All that repeated practice is partly a modesty thing, getting to grips with getting mostly undressed in front of a whole team of technicians, as well as a matter of speed. Active pilots are expected to go from prep to deployment within seven minutes. That takes a bit of streamlining.

By her third or fourth suit up Chuck was mostly okay with it, even if she still feels relatively self-conscious the entire time. She just has to tune it out, though, stand mostly still and move when prompted. It's not like they have to keep up a conversation or anything, this is all about efficiency and she's glad of it.

Even so, today she feels seriously awkward all over again. Chuck's very keenly aware of Herc's presence, her skin prickles despite the fact that she's sure he isn't looking. There's just something vaguely uncomfortable about taking off her clothes when he's in the room, and knowing that he's doing the same. Ugh. For fuck's sake, don't blush. This is exactly the sort of crazy thinking pattern she does _not_ need to have at the forefront of her mind right now. It's not like anyone's naked anyway.

Once the circuitry suit's on she breathes a bit easier at least. Chuck isn't especially fond of the form-hugging, skin-tight look but it serves its purpose – no more bare skin – and gets covered up with the armour quick enough. That said, she can't help glancing in her dad's direction before they get to that part, eyes sliding in an appreciative once-over before she forces herself to look away. _Damn_ , the form-hugging look certainly suits him. And, oh, shit, that is not helpful.

In a very short matter of minutes he's going to be in her head, and there'll be no hiding then. Fuck, she really hopes that this isn't a serious mistake. At least there's not much damage that can be done in the simulator, physically anyway.

Chuck's well aware that she's fidgeting. The techs don't say anything but she knows that they can tell, she just hopes that it gets written off as some sort of impatience rather than straight-up nerves. Technically that's what it kind of is. Anxious as she is, she can't deny that it's better to just get the inevitable over and done with. She's here now after all. And then, with a definite sort of finality, the helmet is locking into place. _Think happy thoughts_.

'You look good.' Herc runs his eyes over her, all ready to go. Though she's seen him in a Drivesuit plenty of times it's a bit of a rush actually seeing it in person. And now she's right back to thinking about how damned attractive he is again. 'Okay?'

'Yeah.' No backing out now, she squares her shoulders and steps towards the door. He functions just as much as a motivation as he does a deterrent. 'Let's do this.'

It's not a long walk to the simulator itself, which is really just as well because Drivesuit boots are not particularly designed for jaunts outside a Conn-Pod. Not that one could tell from watching her dad. He's so far out of her league. But maybe not forever; she just has to remember the compatibility trial, that undeniable connection. They work together, she feels it in her bones, _so well_.

There's no question as to who takes which side, although that's pretty damn far from the main concern Chuck's occupied with. This is far from her first time in here so she can effectively autopilot getting hooked up to the rig. Leaving more time for going over all her doubts again and again. _Please don't ruin things_.

'Relax.' His voice brings her back to the present, calm and grounding.

The technicians have gone and it's just the two of them now. In here at least, she's still fully aware of the presence of the observation room and its occupants. She can practically feel the Marshal watching, waiting, judging.

'Don't over-think.' It's almost like he's reading her thoughts already, interjecting to draw her attention away from the distraction. 'I know it's hard but you can't try to control it, not at this stage.'

Sound enough advice, so long as she can actually remember it in the moment. How exactly is she supposed to quiet her mind when there's all these things she's got to remember and think and pointedly _not_ think? Theory is one thing, reality is another altogether. Relinquishing control has never been one of her strong points, but unless she wants this to fail she's going to have to. If this were anyone else she seriously doubts she'd be able to do it. Trust isn't something that comes naturally to her, but if there's anyone she can trust completely it's him.

Pentecost's voice sounds through the comms, loud and clear, giving the official line for the record; 'The purpose of this test is to determine the viability of your connection. If the neural handshake holds all we want you to do is run through the standard drill. Remember, this is just a preliminary.'

Chuck's not sure if that's directed more at her or at him. When was the last time he was in a simulator rather than a real Conn-Pod? Must be years. A bit of a change of pace then, this, what with there being no Kaiju to kill. Maybe that's why he doesn't seem to feel any pressure, this is nothing compared to that.

'Neural bridge initialising,' the computer announces with a tone that is far too close to cheerful for her liking.

Right, here goes nothing.

From the other room a technician chimes in; 'Initiating neural handshake in ten... nine...'

Just what she needs, a fucking countdown. Not that she wasn't mentally doing the same thing herself, but still, it's much worse hearing it. _Calm down_. This isn't the end of the world. She trusts him.

'Seven...'

'Breathe,' Herc prompts quietly, still watching her rather than the controls.

Chuck looks back at him, letting the reassurance push away at the knot of nerves lodged in her stomach and managing a quick nod. There's no-one else she'd rather do this with after all, even if- _Not now._

'Two...'

_Just don't think._

'One.'

It hits like an explosion, reality instantly falling away as the memories come flooding in.

_If you keep doing this you're going to get yourself into some serious trouble. The counsellor tilts her head, doing that whole air of false concern. And do I look like I give a shit about what you think?_

_He's late. She's early. Standing behind the glass he can't tear himself away from the sight of her, his little girl. God, she's perfect._

_She steps through the door and Gran's drinking it straight from the bottle; one of those days then. Get out. Maybe I will._

_He's counted more than twenty rings before Scott gets tired, takes the receiver and hangs it up for him. Hate to say it, but I think there's a message you're missing here._

_The helicopter's blades are loud but it's like the sound has all gone from the world. She sees it on the horizon, the monster, and this isn't really happening._

_A mushroom cloud rises into the air and it's all over, except it's really just beginning and what is he supposed to do now?_

_It catches her on the back – too slow – the glass splinters._

_He goes to put an arm around her and she flinches away. No, please. I just think... you hate me. We both need a bit of a breather. Could you learn to forgive me?_

_Don't leave me here._

_For the best._

_You should be dead._

_I'm sorry._

_**No.** _

Chuck jerks back violently, the connection snapping shut with a force that leaves her gasping for air. It's a good thing the rig's holding her up because her legs feel like they're going to give out as she doubles over. Fuck, for a second she thinks that she might be sick. That was too intense, she wasn't ready for it. An alarm goes off somewhere and oh shit, shit, shit. Why did she _do_ that?

_Fucking useless._

'Chuck, hey, look at me.' Apparently having somehow gotten out of the rig like a shot, Herc's already at her side. 'It's okay.'

No, no, this is really as far from okay as it can get right now. She shakes her head and can't seem to stop, a toxic mix of frustration, self-loathing and panic beginning to press down on her. Really fucked this up royally, hasn't she?

As if on cue probably the last voice she wants to hear right now comes out loud across the comms; 'What happened in there?'

'Give us a minute.' He practically snaps it, directing a glare in the direction of the monitor before turning his attention back to her. Leaning in close, he puts a hand on the back of her neck, making sure that he gets eye contact. 'Listen to me, sweetheart, don't beat yourself up, you were doing great. The first part's always the hardest, but if this is too much there's no shame in that. Whatever you choose, it doesn't change things between us, okay? I'm not leaving you again, not ever. Now, do you want to stop?'

No. She can't just give up now, this... this is everything. If she can't do this then what good is she? 'How- how close was I?'

Not quite the response he was expecting, though there's hope there even if he tries not to let on. Doesn't want to pressure her, of course. 'Few more seconds.'

Okay, so all she needs is to hold on a little longer, she can manage that. If she can just make it through the initialisation process then the rest should be a piece of cake. It's only memories, they can't hurt her. Except for when they can.

Shooting a defiant look of her own towards the monitor, Chuck straightens up. Enough of that; she's not weak, not broken, not scared. 'I want to try again.'

'You sure?'

'I can do it.'

They stare each other down intently until he finally nods, satisfied.

'Alright,' Herc gives her one last squeeze and raises his voice to address the observation party, 'we're going again.'

Though there's some argument from the other end of the feed it doesn't hold up for long, the Marshal batting down the last objections about 'possible complications from the concussion' and 'maybe her brain's just not developed enough yet'. Gee, so nice to be reminded of just how much practically everyone around here doubts her. It's not like that makes this failure feel worse or anything. At least her dad still has faith in her, misplaced as it might be.

In the few minutes it takes for them to get everything back to starting positions Chuck just closes her eyes and tries to shut it all out. She can do this. All she has to do is not freak out and yank herself out of it again. Easy. It's not as if anything that bad had even come up, and now she knows exactly what to expect too.

'Neural handshake test, take two.' Probably not quite the official line the Marshal would have liked, the technician sounding decidedly offhand.

Oh yeah? She knows that sort of tone all too well, narrowing her eyes. _Just watch me nail this, you condescending piece of crap._

'Just try to let it happen, okay?' Herc shoots one last look at her, still worried even though he respects her call.

'In three... Two... One.'

_He pauses mid-drink, frowning at the screen in disbelief. Giant robots? That's their response? Scott rolls his eyes. Well, I can certainly think of worse ways to go._

_A little bit lost, aren't you? Ward sneers, standing in her way, and they're going to have a permanent problem, aren't they?_

_The air churns and the machine rises up into the sky. Then and there he knows, he's going to fly._

_A dog, seriously? She doesn't remember doing anything to deserve this. The puppy's just pissed himself on her but she doesn't care, she's too happy._

_Scott starts it, never knows when to quit and it drags him in like it always does. But that's what brothers do._

_Might want to turn on the news. Mawgrim barrels into the shot, metal screeches and it's going down-_

_The thing's thrashing like mad, can't get any leverage on it. Keep it back, the fangs tear another slice out of them. No, not today, you bastard._

_She doesn't bother to wait for the recruitment officer to show her out, fists clenching. I'm getting in a Jaeger, see if you can stop me._

_Stacker pauses tellingly before he asks it. Would you be interested in coming out here? Like that's even a question._

_Here goes nothing._

_This is it._

The present abruptly reasserts itself, the intense barrage cutting off as fast as it'd come on but leaving something different in its wake this time. She's got to admit it feels seriously weird; simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying, almost overwhelming. But it's there, and it's holding, and _take that, you judgmental dick-head_.

'Neural handshake locked, holding strong and steady.' The technician announces, not so dismissive now. 'Looks like a perfect alignment.'

Well, thank fuck for that.

Chuck breathes in deep; she can feel him, can feel his mind brushing up against her own and the indistinct boundary where they mix and turn into one. Oh, _wow_. There's something incredibly euphoric about the feeling, it's thousands of times more powerful than that initial spark of connection in the spar. Now, _this_ is a rush.

 _Worth it, right?_ His agreement runs straight into her mind, and it's weird but amazing. This is going to take some getting used to. _But we have a drill to be getting on with_.

Gotta finalise the formalities after all, cause that's clearly all they are now. She definitely wants to do this again. And again, and again... It feels like this could get seriously addictive, trips down memory lane notwithstanding. Although-

 _Focus_ , Herc gently chides. And it's like hearing his voice inside her head, except not at all.

Yeah, test, right. He leads, she follows. Natural as breathing. It all seems to go completely smoothly from there; no stray thoughts or memories intrude on the handshake, and she can't help the pleasure she must be radiating through the Drift. Shit, this could actually _work_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that could certainly have gone a lot worse. Probably could have gone a bit better too though, but hey, since when is Chuck allowed to have it easy?
> 
> As ever, thanks for stopping by, you awesome people.


	14. Hard Truths

The disconnect when it comes is something of a shock, disorientating her as she has to rapidly adjust back to being singular. Chuck sways, immensely thankful for the rig that prevents her from completely losing balance and making a prat of herself. It's as if the Drift has pulled part of her mind away, leaving her rather lightheaded and with this distinct sense of loss. For fuck's sake, they only shared headspace for a few minutes, why is this hitting her so damn hard?

Of course, a quick look to her right reveals that Herc remains completely unaffected, already going about detaching himself from the rig. So this must just be a first Drift thing then. Or at least that's what she hopes, and that this isn't just her being all messed up and broken and shit. Seriously, she's even shaking, what is _wrong_ with her?

But still, she can derive some satisfaction from the fact that in the end nothing had happened, they'd survived it. Not one horrendous thought or anything, there simply hadn't been the chance for her mind to wander like that. The pure rush of it had driven pretty much everything else clean out of her head. It'll probably be more of a hazard down the line, though, when Chuck's no longer as on edge and wary. Keeping her guard up is going to end up being a real job in the long-run, because she's going to get comfortable with it and she's going to end up relaxing and then-

No, she is _going_ to solve this before they get anywhere near that point. One way or another she is getting over this... _thing_ she has for him.

'Good job,' Pentecost sounds relatively pleased, as he should, 'all readings were solid, we've got what we needed. This test is concluded.'

Wouldn't that be nice, if this was really the end of all the testing? Maybe now she can finally stop feeling like she's being assessed every second.

Any particular relief, however, vanishes when she turns around and realises that Herc's already leaving. Without a word. Well, so much for that good feeling then. Chuck can feel his less than happy mood, frowning as she casts one last glance in the direction of the monitor and heading after him. Hadn't everything gone fine? What did she do?

There's a definite tension in the air as they go through the changing process, the suiting up seems positively carefree by comparison. What makes it all the worse is that Chuck just can't figure out where this change in mood has come from. He'd seemed fine right up until they disconnected. Had something slipped through at the last minute without her noticing? Shit, she hopes not. If she'd thought something inappropriate then surely she'd have felt his reaction straight away, the Drift's a two-way street after all. Or maybe she just missed it somehow, there was an awful lot for her to take in and get used to, whereas he's a seasoned pro.

For what must be the dozenth time she hazards another glance in his direction. Nope, still nothing. He's definitely ignoring her. That stings far too much, especially as it's coming immediately after they were just in each other's heads. Going from that level of connection to _this_... It's throwing her even more off kilter, mixing with the all too vivid memories of rejection and abandonment that burn clear in her mind. Fuck, this hurts.

It's not quite so ruthlessly streamlined a routine at this end, her increased shakiness and distraction probably not helping matters at all. Still, the technician currently assisting her is a relatively patient one. Rather than getting frustrated with her sluggishness and limited responses, the woman just gets on with it and wordlessly adjusts her limbs as necessary. Normally she'd be the first to shut this sort of babying shit down, but right now she's got slightly bigger things to worry about.

Chuck senses him leaving, a faint pull on her mind before she turns to see the door sliding closed. Her heart contracts with a pang of abandonment, the acute sense of absence that's plaguing her only intensifying with the increased loss of nearness. Shaking her head, she pushes it away, or at least tries to. This has to wear off soon, or else she'll go mad. Of course it will; pilots wouldn't be able to function if they couldn't handle even the tiniest bit of separation. Knowing that isn't a particular consolation, though, not when she still feels like part of her's already been pulled out that door.

 _Don't leave me here. For the best._ Just for an instant she's right back in that memory, with all the pain and the regret, before it snaps away again.

Oh, she is so going to be having nightmares tonight. If she can even bring herself to try sleeping in the first place, that is.

Slipping out of the circuitry suit, having slightly more trouble with the skintight material in the process than she cares to admit, Chuck is barely conscious of the cold. Any of her lingering self-consciousness has been completely overridden by a mixture of confusion, disorientation and worry. Turns out that Drift has really thrown her balance off something fierce too, as she comes perilously close to tipping over in the midst of lacing her boots. First one's always the worst, everyone knows that.

Taking a slightly more diagonal route towards the exit she endeavours to multitask and pull on her jacket as she walks, although the result is likely less than impressive. Fortunately, there's only a couple of people left in the Drivesuit Room, and she's sure at least one of them is too busy with putting away equipment to be paying any attention to her. Gotta cling to the small things. She steps out, one arm still awkwardly tangled up, and naturally finds herself faced with the Marshal and Herc apparently in the middle of a discussion.

For the first time in what feels like hours her dad turns his eyes in her direction, all but dismissing their superior. While remaining perfectly polite and within military protocol, of course. 'If that's all then?'

Pentecost seems to understand, looking between the two of them and nodding; they'd probably already covered everything they needed to before she got here anyway. 'I'll leave you to it.'

As he departs she thinks that his expression leans more towards positive than negative, but then again that might just be false hope colouring her judgement.

'C'mon, we're not discussing this here.' His hand ghosts over her shoulder, already walking away.

 _Discussing?_ Her stomach twists unpleasantly. What's there to discuss?

Well, if nothing else, at least this means that he's not completely shutting her out, _yet_. Unhesitating, she goes after him, catching up and falling into step. The disorientation issue is getting better, probably helped along by the fact that he's marching with a speed and purpose that she needs to match. Her mind quiets somewhat now that he's near again; that side-effect seems like it'll take a little longer to wear off than the more obvious physical ones.

As luck would have it his quarters are closer, although she's pretty sure the destination wouldn't have changed even if that hadn't been the case. He's closed up again, not sparing her a word or glance the whole way, and this really can't bode well. _Whatever you choose, it doesn't change things between us, okay?_ That promise lasted real long, didn't it? Well, to be fair he never said anything about stuff seen in the Drift not changing things, and how did she not see this coming?

Own mood continuing to rapidly plummet, Chuck imagines the worst, bracing for the rejection she's spent all this time fearing. She tries to keep her eyes on the floor, resisting that constant urge to stare at him as best she can. Meaning that she ends up directing sideways glances at him every few seconds, in the vague hope of catching him looking back. Not that he does, of course. But yeah, she could easily stare at him all day, especially now her mind is well filled in on some of the finer details of his body. Hell, she is so going to hell. 

By the time he opens the door, waving her in first as per usual, she's really getting worked up in a mix of anxiety and guilt. On autopilot she nearly goes straight over to the bed to sit down, catching herself halfway there and attempting to turn it into more of a pacing manoeuvre. She still doesn't feel right, almost like part of her is missing and then there's this sort of gravitational pull towards him. It'd be making her restless even if she wasn't already on edge over whatever's going on here. 

Herc sighs, moving past her, too close and yet too far. 'Sit. This isn't a fight.'

Okay, so what does that leave? Lecture? Interrogation? Dressing down? She mentally runs through the options, folding her arms and taking a light perch on the end of the mattress furthest from him. A loud instinct is telling her to move closer but she bats it down. Now is really not the time for that. Fidgeting, she waits for him to get on with it, keeping her eyes fixed on a safe spot of floor. Speaking first could turn out to be a big mistake.

Not that he particularly seems to want to say anything, taking his sweet time putting the words together. 'Drifting, it's very intensive. There's some things it's very hard not to latch onto, especially when... And if you're in the field that gets a lot more dangerous, if there's the chance that something's going to come up that you can't ignore.'

Where's he going with this? Oh, she understands the general thrust of the point he's building up to, but Chuck still isn't sure which memory or thought it is that's brought this on. Whole body tensing, she casts her mind back over the exercise. What could've got him into this sort of twist? She'd been so focused on the need to avoid that one particular subject that the idea of anything else potentially bothering him had kind of escaped her. Shit, this was such a terrible idea, wasn't it?

'Look, I'm not saying that we have to tell each other everything. But, for both our sakes, I have to know.' The mattress shifts and with an abrupt burst of clarity she knows exactly what's coming about a second before he begins; 'Did you ever-'

Herc trails off but she is under no illusions about what it is he's asking, can almost hear the memory that had caught his attention. _You should be dead_. Shit, caught red-handed.

Scrunching her eyes closed she grits it out. 'No.' _No, I've never tried to kill myself. No, it's not a problem. And no, I don't want to talk about this._

'But you've thought about it?'

The simple answer's not enough, of course it's not. Fuck's sake, why couldn't he just go and read her damn psych report? It's probably all in there, she wouldn't put it past them to have gone back through her paper trail. The number of times she's been asked this stupid fucking question over the years.

If she was to lie here, Chuck realises that he'd probably know. Drift hangover, she's heard about them, where the minds of co-pilots temporarily retain some degree of connection after leaving the Conn-Pod. Another side-effect that'll wear off soon enough, although maybe not quite as soon as she'd like. He could've only caught a fragment of one of those moments in the barrage, neither of them had latched on to anything so the glimpse could've only been fleeting. How hadn't she got a sense of his feelings, though? Was he really able to exert that much control? Shit, she must be an open book in comparison.

'That doesn't matter.' There's too much shame in the admission, and now is really not the time for him to start pulling that damn caring angle again.

'It does to me.'

'Just drop it!' Lurching to her feet, she makes a break for the door, she can't believe that he's making her spell this out. She already feels bad enough without having to deal with his disappointment.

Because today is being a bitch, however, Herc still doesn't take the warning. Intercepting her, he refuses to back down. 'Is that a yes?'

Right now Chuck would almost rather he hadn't gotten past the ignoring phase. 'This _doesn't matter_.'

'Do you still think that?'

No. Yes. Maybe. She doesn't know. It's no question that she should be dead, and it's not like she minds the thought of dying, not if she gets to take out a Kaiju on the way. But then she thinks about him and it stops seeming quite so appealing. And anyway, it's wrong and she's an ungrateful shit and-

' _Fuck off._ ' Done with this, she goes against her instincts to illustrates the message with a nice hard shove.

Which does precisely nothing to help her case. Instead it turns into a brief but intense tussle, both of them frustrated and still edgy from the Drift. Herc has the upper hand from the start, though, undeniably the stronger one here, and it's not like her heart's really in it either. As abruptly as it started it's over, him getting his arms hooked around her and refusing to budge. Although she struggles at first her brain quickly kicks in with a resounding approval of this new arrangement, fight draining out of her. On second thought, touching is good, _very_ good.

'I don't.' Exhaling heavily, she buries her face in his shoulder, and it's the truth. Chuck doesn't think about killing herself, she thinks about dying. It's a distinction the doctors never seem to fucking get. Besides, for his sake, she can't die.

'All right.' Now that he's got it out of her he seems to relax a little bit. But before Herc can let it go entirely he gives her a squeeze; 'If you ever start feeling like that again I want you to tell me, okay?'

'Okay.' The agreement's out of her mouth before she has a chance to think about it, and she's a little scared to realise that she really does mean it. Honestly, he could probably ask her to do anything right now and she would.

Rather than concentrate on that, though, Chuck just focuses on how good this hug feels. Being held has always been her weak spot, much as she's tried to hide it, but of course he remembers. It's just a hug, sliding her hands up his back she tightens her grip. This feels right, though she tries not to think about the way her body seems to fit naturally against his. She doesn't deserve this, but like hell is she going to let that stop her right now.

Wanting to clear the last of the bad subject from the air, she mumbles; 'So you do still wanna Drift with me, yeah?'

'Of course,' Herc says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 'I wouldn't want it any other way.'

Unplanned as this was, neither of them seems to have any particular inclination to let go, him continuing to lazily stroke her back as she closes her eyes and just breathes him in. It's only when he eventually speaks up again that she realises quite how unashamed her snuggling has gotten. 'Are we making up for lost time here or is this going to be a side-effect of Drifting for you?'

Instantly her face heats up. Embarrassed, Chuck's first instinct is to pull away, because _shit, this isn't funny_. It's not like her apparently natural clinginess has had all that much chance to come out in recent years. And really this is just asking for trouble anyway.

'Don't worry, this isn't that uncommon.' While Herc lets her retreat it's clear that he isn't willing to let her go completely, not yet.

Decidedly not looking anywhere above his shoulders, she replies with a somewhat sceptical; 'It's not?'

'So I'm told.' Meaning that he's never gone super needy after a Drift; not that she could really imagine him like that, _especially_ not with Scott.

Keeping hold of one arm he leads her back to the bed, sitting and then giving her a gentle tug. 'Nothing to be embarrassed about, c'mere.'

That's easy enough for him to say, he's not the one who's gone all gooey. It takes far too little pushing for her to completely cave, much as she intends to dig her heels in here. Rubbing her arm, he gives her an imploring look and shit, she's weak.

'Don't think we're making a habit of this.' Burrowing back into his side, Chuck tries to make it sound grudging. Even though that's total bullshit.

'If you say so.' Herc doesn't even pretend to buy it, a hand finding its way into her hair again. This'd be much easier if he wasn't so damn happy to indulge in all this touching.

_Oh, fuck me._

-

The bed dips, springs creaking, and she turns over. Although it's dark she can make Herc out pretty clearly, perched on the edge of the mattress and watching her intently. What time is it? Not quite fully awake, she frowns. 'Dad?'

He shakes his head, reaching out and trailing a hand over her cheek. 'It's okay.'

Somehow that's all it takes to put her back at ease, although it does nothing to ease the vague confusion that's clouding her thoughts. Still, that usual warm feeling is rapidly spreading through her and it's hard to concentrate on anything else.

Shifting slightly, edging up against him and getting more comfortable, she unashamedly nuzzles his hand. She's too sleepy to have inhibitions. 'Love you.'

'I love you too.' He draws in a slightly shaky breath, like he's hesitant, but she knows it's not because he's being untruthful.

There's a moment that seems to stretch out for an eternity, before she belatedly thinks that maybe it would be good to tone this down. And then... he's tracing his thumb across her lips. Oh.

Her eyes find his, this can't mean- But she can read him, it may be the first time he's looked at her like this but she knows. It shouldn't be nearly as thrilling as it is, the way that look seems to set her insides on fire.

'Can I?' He doesn't quite finish the question but she doesn't need him to. It's almost like another Drift hangover.

Not trusting her voice for one second, Chuck gives a faint nod. Oh, this is a terrible idea but god, she wants to so bad.

Seems like he can read her just as well right now, already leaning in closer. For a second he holds off, though, giving her one last chance to say no. Like she really needs that. Like her mind's not been made up since the moment he walked into the kwoon.

Hell, she's crazy but since when has anyone thought otherwise? Chuck can't resist and she is done waiting, closing the gap herself and pushing her mouth against his. Yeah, how obvious is it that she's never done this before?

She doesn't stay in control of things for long, though, not that she finds that to be a particularly bad development, not at all. It's kind of messy and almost desperate but fuck, he can kiss. Twisting a hand in his shirt she pulls him closer, as he pushes her back against the bed-

With an unpleasant jerk Chuck snaps out of it, heart racing, and groans. _Shit._

Pushing herself up into a sitting position she mashes a hand to her face; holy shit, _that_ was a dream. It'd seemed so _real_. She can still feel the ghost of his touch, skin prickling even though it's pretty damn obvious that there's nobody else in the room with her now. Well, looks like her brain's taken another serious turn for the fucked up. Literally.

Ugh. Far sweatier than she should be, Chuck throws off the covers, getting to her feet and making a bee-line for the shower. Not that any amount of scrubbing is going to be able to erase the memory of that. But the worst part? The worst part is that she doesn't _want_ to get rid of it, that feeling.

Normally she runs the water hot, but not this time. Turning the tap as far towards freezing as she can stand, she leans her head against the tiles and tries not to think about how much more messed up she keeps getting. Do dreams show up in the Drift? Fuck, she hopes they don't. She's really going to have to do a lot better if this all isn't going to come crashing down around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that certainly got... heated. But I'd say that was a better outcome than a nightmare, even if this is probably only going to make Chuck beat herself up even more... Sometimes you just can't win.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, lovely readers.


	15. Looking On

Training with a partner is a vastly different experience. Such an improvement on going through it all alone, dealing with those doubts over whether it's really worth sticking out when there's clearly readier – _better_ – options available. Stubbornness only goes so far after all, especially when nobody even knows for sure when the second Mark-5 will be rolled off the production line. From what Chuck hears no-one's even started development yet. But now she doesn't have to worry about that anymore, and it's like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Finally, she can actually _do_ half the training, no longer treading water and making tangible progress once more. It's a lot less frustrating, that's for sure. 

That said, the general feeling towards her has shifted, again. Ranger candidates always tend to get treated with a sort of respectful distance by those training for different branches of the Corps, but the mood of the other would-be pilots has definitely soured. Many of the newer recruits give her dirty looks, angry at her perceived privilege and the fact that she's probably cost them a shot at the first Mark-5. It doesn't bother her, though, not like any of them even have the balls to try doing something about it anyway. What _does_ bother her is the way people keep looking at her dad.

 _Seriously? Yeah, he's hot, get your tongues off the damn floor._ Admire the program's greatest pilot, sure, just don't be so shameless about it. Don't do it when she's right there, or better yet just don't do it at all. Chuck seems to spend far too long having to glare at offenders behind his back, it's amazing that he never appears to notice any of it. And then he wonders why it takes her so long to finish eating when she's got to pause every other minute to stare another admirer off. Fuck's sake, Jack hadn't warned her about _this_. Maybe it's just an Academy thing, shit she hopes it's just an Academy thing.

Turning her eyes towards the ceiling of the mess, she decidedly does _not_ think about last night and the latest terrible, amazing, fucked-up dream she'd had. It doesn't matter how hard she tries not to let her mind go there, the images always come back. And they're getting worse. Well, more intense anyway. Somehow, by an almighty effort, she still manages to look him in the eyes, even if it takes a while before she can dare to on the mornings after. She enjoys them far too much, guilt building up with every inappropriate thought as she lets herself get pulled deeper and deeper.

Chuck doesn't have the courage to ask about the likelihood of dream memories getting into the Drift, not least because that might just end up tipping him off. Nothing like that's shown up so far, mercifully, despite all those warnings that the main source of Drift instability is the sex stuff. She's absolutely dreading the moment something inevitably comes up, if only because she'll probably combust with jealousy and give herself away. _Just don't think about it_.

Herc sits down across from her and she reflexively crosses her legs.

'Morning.'

Unlike other paired candidates the two of them have remained in separate quarters, at least for the time being, and she is seriously grateful for that. How the hell she's going to survive sharing a room with him is something she hasn't even begun to figure out yet. One problem at a time. She gives him a smile that's hopefully not too strained before focusing on her breakfast as if it's the most fascinating thing in the universe. _I'm not blushing, not even slightly. They're your genes too, for fuck's sake, why don't you have this problem?_

'Sleep well?' She has to be imagining the almost knowing edge to his words, it's just an innocent question.

'Fine.' Chuck shrugs, dismantling her food with forced intensity. _Way to sound suspicious_. 'Uh, you?'

He takes a long moment to answer, so long that she risks a glance up through her lashes to check that he's not gotten distracted somehow. Turns out he's just eating.

Swallowing, he finally responds with a perfectly casual; 'Quite well.'

It's hard to do much more than nod in response when her mind is busy supplying her a vivid reminder of the rather less casual things she'd only recently been hearing from that same voice. She really seems to have developed a surprisingly graphic imagination these last few weeks. All the same, the contrast to reality couldn't be more striking, and it makes her feel so incredibly dirty. He's _right there_ for fuck's sake.

Still, even when she's trying not to squirm guiltily in her seat, there's no denying that his presence does make her feel more at ease. Ever since the awkward aftermath of that, slightly disastrous, first Drift he's made it clear that he isn't about to forget about her little slip. Fortunately, that hasn't translated into him constantly pestering her about it like one of those goddamn shrinks, no continuous questioning of her every move and motive as she had half-feared. Instead he just seems to spend even more of his time watching her, making it rather difficult to tell who's trailing after who most of the time.

And then there's the snuggling... Even coming up on their seventh Drift now her resultant urge for physical contact hasn't lessened even slightly. It still annoys her, going all weak like that, but it's pretty hard to keep that mood up when he drags her off and insists on giving her all the attention she needs without the slightest complaint. His strategy seems to be to take advantage of any Drift hangover and increased pliability in order to really push a positive reinforcement angle. He's pretty damn determined to change her mindset, stubborn as well as patient.

Not willing to let her stew for long, Herc prods; 'Cat-3 today.'

Chuck can't quite help a bit of a smirk, now this is something she can feel confident about. 'Already beaten it.'

'On your own.' He stresses the last word pointedly, even though his expression remains more indulgent.

'Exactly.'

Her bravado is only slightly unfounded. Although she's already beaten all of the current sims – multiple times – doing it while Drifting is a rather different ballgame. Fighting's a bit harder when there's that possibility of being blindsided by a problematic memory. As it is, they're still working out their shared headspace and its boundaries. Naturally, there's been a few teething problems, but that's what the simulator – and all this training – is for. Chuck's never snapped out of the neural handshake again, after all, much to her own relief. By the time they get in a Jaeger together it should be as easy as breathing. Though she's not cocky enough to believe that the sim is quite the same as a live drop, not least because of the impressions she's caught of that through the Drift.

Just a couple more months and she'll be out there for real. It's a sobering, yet mostly exhilarating thought. Of course, that's assuming that she doesn't manage to colossally fuck it all up before then. As long as she gets to kill just one Kaiju, that's all she needs to accomplish. Well, no, who's she kidding? That's not true, one will only ever be the start and she knows it. There's still far too much to prove; to him, to everyone, to herself.

A shadow falls over her shoulder and Chuck turns, instinctively tensing, only to relax at the sight of Mako holding a breakfast tray. 'May I join you?'

'Course.' She waves a hand by way of permission. Usually she might prefer to keep their area of the table as clear as possible but – aside from her friend being a general exception to the keep-people-away rule – today she feels the need for a bit of a buffer. Hopefully this'll speed up the process of clearing the latest dream out of her thoughts properly. That and she's less likely to read into everything he does this way.

Mako slides into the seat next to her with a fluid grace that she finds it a little hard not to envy. Nobody has ever accused her of being graceful; efficient is about the closest she's gotten in the way of compliments. Not that she especially cares about how anyone else sees her, for the most part. She's under no illusions about her own general lack of appeal.

Rather than letting them all go round the, increasingly awkward, standard early morning questions Chuck decides to preemptively change the subject; 'So, how's training going?'

'It is going well.' Mako smiles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Gladly pushing her own worries to one side for a minute, Chuck frowns, concerned by this sudden lack of enthusiasm. It can't be down to the other cadets, none of them are stupid enough to try messing with the Marshal's daughter right under his nose. That and Mako is more than capable of looking after herself. And it's not like she particularly struggles with any of the training itself. _Unless-_

Mentally counting back the weeks, time is fucking shooting by, she's sure she's hit on it. All the same, she goes for a more offhand probe, just to test the waters. 'Not that long to the first cut now, is it?'

That prompts a rather glum sort of nod. 'The assessments start next week.'

'Nervous?' Herc's picked up on it too.

Mako nods again, more fiercely, the tension clear in her entire posture. That looming judgement must really be getting to her, it's not all that often she lets her nerves show this much.

'You'll breeze it.' Chuck doesn't doubt her chances for a second; if Ward could make the cut then she should have no problems at all.

'I am not sure, only five percent get through.' It's a thought that seems to depress the older cadet thoroughly; few people have nearly as intense a drive as she does to become a pilot.

'And you'll be in the top one percent. Trust me, you'll breeze it.' Pep talks aren't exactly a speciality of hers but she tries. Even so, she knows better than to try playing the trump card of her argument in present company. _I mean, if_ I _can get through..._

'Don't get caught up thinking about the numbers, it's all about your abilities. If you've got what it takes, you'll pass.' Herc gives her a reassuring smile. If anyone at this table knows what it takes to become a Ranger it's obviously him, and the effect of his words is immediately visible.

Still, Chuck's the one here who went through it more recently, and when he'd gone through training the methods hadn't exactly been as thorough. A lot of the technical stuff hadn't even existed back in his days, when the program had still been in its infancy. Not that she blames Mako for not taking her word for it; it hadn't been so long ago that it had been her needing words of encouragement.

'Anyway, I'll leave you two to it.' He stands, directing a pointed look at the mostly untouched tray in front of her. 'Finish up, and I'll see you at the simulator.'

Chuck gives a muted affirmative, ducking her head and trying not to let on to the fact that she watches him until he's left the room. Fuck, she's worse than any of the other would-be admirers, but she can't well stop _herself_ staring. Not when he has to go and be so damned attractive. She's not sure she'll ever entirely get enough of just looking at him, appreciating the fact that he's actually here.

'You can stop staring now.' Mako's actually smirking at her. Shit, is it that obvious?

'I wasn't staring.' The denial comes out a little too forcefully. Fuck's sake, it's not like there's any reason to be guilty. Well, that anyone else knows of.

'You were.' Her grin widens, and seriously what happened to all that anxiety? 'It's cute, you're making up for lost time.'

 _Cute_ is not a word Chuck wants associated with her, ever. 'Shut up.'

'Don't be embarrassed.' Nudging her, Mako turns sly. 'Now, finish up.'

Glowering she complies, more to silence the other cadet than anything. Well, that and he did tell her to. Herc has twigged pretty quickly to her tendency to forget meals, and to then spend a lot of time once she is in the mess fiddling with her food. Honestly, it's not like she doesn't eat or anything, it's just not at the top of her priorities is all. Still, his worry makes her feel warm inside just as much as it sometimes irks her.

Nevertheless, teasing aside, the atmosphere remains companionable between the pair as they see out the meal. Ignoring her issues, mornings like this one are a sort of pleasantness Chuck never thought she'd have again, all that's really missing is Max. She wonders again how he's doing at the moment. No matter what Gran thinks of her she'll take good enough care of him, but that doesn't stop her still feeling terrible for having to leave the bulldog behind in the first place, though. Shit, she really hopes taking him to the Shatterdome won't be a problem. Twenty-four weeks is one thing, giving him up indefinitely is something else entirely. She doesn't know how she'd do it, or if she even could. Still, that's one of the potential benefits of being partnered up with her dad, Herc stands a far better chance of getting it okayed.

Rather than heading back to her own quarters – it's not like there's masses for her to do there – Chuck ends up offering to give Mako a hand with her revision. Much as the older girl refuses to take anything in the way of outright help it's clear that she'd appreciate a cramming partner right now. If it'll ease her friend's worries Chuck's quite happy to sit and quiz her on the Serizawa Scale or the difference between Bushido positions twenty-three and thirty-two for a while, there's plenty of time to burn before they're due to tackle the simulator. Just so long as there's no more teasing. Not to mention that it seems like a great way to push certain problematic things out, or at least to the back, of her own mind.

On arriving back at the familiar old corridor, however, that plan is put on hold by the excited buzz that's spilling out of the common room. Apprehension rapidly rising, she exchanges a look with Mako before going to investigate. Either something's going on with one of the Jaegers, it's a Kaiju attack, or a fight's broken out. She couldn't care less about any cadet scraps, but like most in the PPDC - and the world at large – she wouldn't want to miss the latest battle. Even now that she doesn't need to stalk the news in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her dad anymore.

They don't have much trouble getting within viewing distance of the television, respect and all that, and yeah, it's another fucking Kaiju. These days it seems like they barely go a couple of months before there's new one rearing its ugly head out of the ocean. Turns out this one's decided to go for the American coastline, a lot further down, admittedly, near the border with Mexico. Clawhook, the captions reliably inform her, and that's really not one of the most imaginative names. Then again, it tends to be the Asian operators who come up with the more creative ones.

Two Jaegers have already been dropped on the ten-mile line - both US ones, surprise surprise – Romeo Blue and the Mark-3 Gipsy Danger. Each has two kills to their name already, so it looks like Lucky's record is about to get equalised. Still waiting on contact at the moment, they're spaced well apart ready to intercept the incoming Category II. Old guard or the hot shots? This'll be an interesting match up.

Mako is tensed up beside her, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which one she's rooting for.

As the Kaiju begins to surface there's an audible intake of breath from the room at large, it's almost enough to make her roll her eyes. Romeo Blue gets the honour of going first as the thing rises up out of the water with a bellow, front limbs already flying in an attack. Clawhook? Those claws look more like frigging scythes as it whips them in a downwards arc towards Romeo's shoulders. It's not small, that's for sure, but it seems mighty slow as the Mark-1 dodges back and swings a punch into the side of Clawhook's ugly head. Naturally that gets a cheer from the audience.

A wide shot reveals Gipsy Danger marking a beeline for the fight, probably hurrying out of concern that they might miss the action. Romeo is making fairly easy work of the Kaiju so far, landing a few more hits as the massive claws flail around in miss after miss. This certainly isn't one of the bad ones, honestly, its relative lack of speed rather undercuts its raw aggression. If nothing else though it _is_ definitely trying, screeching and taking a vicious swipe at the second Jaeger as it comes into range. Gipsy effortlessly avoids it, of course.

From there the pair proceeds to batter away at the increasingly angry and frantic Clawhook. It almost looks effortless, not that anyone who's been in the Academy for more than a day would be deceived by that appearance. Both Jaegers do end up with some scrapes, Romeo taking a rather deep gouge down its torso and Gipsy getting away with a gash on its right shoulder, but that's nothing compared to the damage they deal out in return. The final shot goes to the Mark-3 – Mako giving a clap of approval – and another monster sinks back under the waves.

Hot shots it is then.

-

When she arrives at the Drivesuit Room there's a definite tightness in Herc's expression; he must have seen the coverage too.

'You okay?' It seems weird for her to be the one asking that question, makes for a kind of nice change. Well, except for the whole him being clearly off part.

Turning away, he dismisses it. 'Yeah, I'm fine.'

Doesn't take much to guess what he's thinking right now, Chuck can practically _feel_ his frustration even without the Drift or its ghost. He wants to be back out there, it's not a surprise, he's never been the sort to sit happily on the sidelines.

At least she can take some comfort in the fact that it's only partly her, and the need for all this training, that's holding him back. Even if the Marshal went ahead and deemed her combat ready tomorrow they'd still be waiting on a Jaeger. The Mark-5's an advanced piece of tech, the first of its kind, that takes time to get up and running properly. Nobody is in a hurry to cut corners after those earlier models.

So for the time being the both of them will just have to try and be content with beating the shit out of virtual Kaiju instead. There are worse ways to wait around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice to have a bit of a break from the angst, isn't it? And, as time's skipping along a little faster, it's not going to be long now before we leave the Academy behind. I doubt Chuck's going to especially miss it. 
> 
> Also, something tells me that's not the last we'll be seeing of Gipsy Danger...
> 
> Thanks, as always, for stopping by, lovely readers.


	16. Out of Bounds

Sleep's seriously overrated. It's so non-constructive, letting the subconscious do all sorts of crazy things and churning up thoughts it shouldn't. Honestly, her time is much better spent here in the gym, at least she doesn't have to think when she's laying into a punching bag. Which is why, as the final hours of Chuck's last night at the Academy drag past she's here, resorting to her old fallback.

Tomorrow – or technically today now - they're flying out, back to Australia. At long last the call had come through, work on the Mark-5's as done as it needs to be so it's time to get them in the Conn-Pod. And just like that she's all signed off, officially a Ranger. It's still going to be a little while before they're actively deployed, though. Now it's the Jaeger's turn to be tested.

Of course, as exhilarating and daunting as that all is, there's just a slight problem. Shatterdome protocol dictates that after tonight the two of them are going to be sharing quarters. Permanently. Or, at least, for the duration of their partnership. However long, or not, that turns out to be. Now if it weren't for her increasingly serious issue she'd be more than fine with that arrangement. But the fact is that this'll massively increase the chances of him finding out, as well as giving her stupid thoughts yet more fuel. And, low as she's already sunk, there's something so much worse about having those sorts of explicit dreams about Herc _while he's in the same room._

Sooner or later it's bound to get out if she keeps going like this. Something's going to give it away in the Drift and then? Well, then he'll be gone like a shot. He's amazing and noble but that couldn't ever outweigh the disgust of knowing. At best she'll never see him again; at worst who knows, but she'd certainly never get back in a Conn-Pod.

Unfortunately beating herself bloody on a punching bag isn't really solving anything, though, cathartic as it is. Nothing's making it go away, disappointing any misplaced hopes she'd had that this was just some sort of phase, a side-effect of having been apart so long that'd just fade away. Being around him should've made the more platonic feelings kick back in to the point of blocking this other shit out, not made it get worse.

It's terrible, but she's starting to only seriously care about it in so much as she doesn't want to get caught. If there was no risk of him ever finding out then this wouldn't be a problem. Well, it would but it wouldn't be quite such a big one. With time, she could just work through this or something, get it out of her system and make herself move on. She's sick, there's no denying that, and that's fine just so long as it doesn't ever hurt him.

After all, the dreams are unbelievably hot. From a purely objective standpoint. Yeah, she always feels guilty as sin whenever he smiles at her the next morning, but they always make her feel so damn _good_. Honestly, it's kind of addictive. She's increasingly facing up to the idea that she simply _can't_ shake this. But all the same, she's still far too selfish to do the right thing and let him go before the inevitable happens.

 _Fuck_. With a frustrated growl, Chuck slams a fist into the punching bag, throwing it violently backwards and making her knuckles sting.

'Nice hook.'

Shit. Of course he's here, why wouldn't he be? Doesn't everyone come here for early morning workouts? Shaking out her hand, she throws a deceptively offhand glance in his direction. Although Herc's casually walking in from the doorway there's no telling just how long he might have been standing there. She really wishes people would stop sneaking up on her like this.

'Maybe don't throw it from so far out, though.' Stepping right up into her personal space, he takes her hand and demonstrates. 'A lunge like that'll throw you off-balance.'

'Yeah, thanks, I do know how to punch.' Chuck yanks her arm back, already tetchy without having to deal with him criticising her form too. 'Was just finishing up here anyway.'

Apparently undeterred by this less than warm reception, he frowns at her. 'You look tired.'

She shrugs; 'That was kind of the point.'

'What's wrong?' Naturally, that just set off his sense of parental concern even more. Much as he doesn't try to overly pry sometimes he still fails to realise when it's better to leave these things.

 _You really don't want to know_. Though she studiously avoids meeting his eyes, without spilling the truth, she can't come up with a better response than; 'Nothing's wrong.'

Herc doesn't make any attempt to disguise his scepticism. 'So I've just never noticed that you come in here every night then?'

'No... I just, you know, dreams and shit.' Because only something close to the truth will be enough to satisfy him when he's in the mood for answers. And she really doesn't need him pressing at this, not right now.

Rather than leave it open for follow-up, fuck knows how she'd handle that, Chuck quickly adds on by way of placation; 'I'll sleep on the flight anyway.'

It's not like she's going to have much else to do for eighteen-odd hours of flight time, other than staring at miles upon miles of featureless ocean. The journey itself isn't something she's looking forward to; travel has yet to grow on her, at all. But at least this time she isn't going _quite_ so far and won't have to put up with any of that unaccompanied minor bullshit again.

'Well, in that case...' Getting the message and switching tack, Herc inclines his head in the direction of the mats. 'You wanna go?'

 _Absolutely_. Her mind supplies the answer a split second before she catches up to exactly what he's suggesting. Spar, right. It's not like getting all physical with him is just asking for trouble or anything. But there's a definite challenge in the way he looks at her and that's not something Chuck can turn down. After all, it'll be a better workout than another round with the punching bag.

'Sure, now that I'm warmed up, why not?' Casual, keep it casual.

There's no hanbos so it'll have to be good old hand-to-hand instead, which suits her just fine. This is more of her natural style, but then again she's not likely to have any particular advantage against him here. Especially not now that they've been in each other's heads and know every move the other can make.

Tossing his jacket to one side, he strikes a tone that's somehow both cautious and teasing. 'If you want me to take it easy on you-'

All geared up, she wastes no time going straight for the attack, cutting him off. Banter or not, she isn't about to put up with that sort of talk right now. This ain't official, there's no rules, and any way she can get the upper hand the better. Chuck's still one down on him from the compatibility trial after all.

Of course, he sees it coming fast enough to dodge anyway, stepping away from the swipe with ease. Going with it, she avoids Herc's rapid counter and manages to slip under his guard, bringing a hand up to tap against his collarbone. _Who needs to go easy on who then?_

'I'm sorry, were you saying something?'

 _Cocky_ ; his thought's practically audible. To prove the point he abruptly kicks out one of her knees, knocking her off-balance as he twists her arm up into a lock. Just to rub it in he taps her exposed neck before letting her go. There goes her lead.

_Right, focus._

In spite of her best efforts it soon starts to become obvious that he's a lot fresher, while some of her own reactions are clearly starting to lag. That's just what happens when you're running on pretty limited sleep. Even so, Chuck holds up for a fair while, at least partly thanks to willpower, refusing to let up. If he's going to beat her then he damn well has to do it the hard way. Inevitably the eventual error is hers, though, as she anticipates his next move a moment too late and has her legs knocked clean out from under her. Shit.

Smart bastard uses her own momentum against her too, making it impossible to save herself from the drop. But that doesn't mean she's going down alone, grabbing on and taking him with her. Her back hits the mats with a resounding thump, driving the air out of her lungs as his weight lands squarely on top of her. As Chuck has no intention of losing this she doesn't stay still for long, tempting as that is, relinquishing her grip and attempting to roll clear.

Of course, she really inherited a lot of her competitiveness from Herc, so he isn't about to throw in the towel either. And, as he's the one with the advantage of being already on top, it takes him all of about five seconds to wrestle her flat. Making matters worse he ends up straddling her, knees pressed on either side of her hips so that there's nothing she can do to throw him off. Though Chuck attempts to squirm free there's no room for manoeuvre, him squeezing tighter on her wrists for just a second to better convey the message. There's no two ways about it, he's got her well and truly pinned.

That went south awfully quickly. Sure that her heart's beating far too fast, she sucks in a breath that hopefully isn't too shaky and focuses on not moving a muscle. It's almost tempting to laugh; what was she so worried about? Turns out her imagination gets plenty of fuel anyway.

'Done yet?'

As bad - or good - as this position is, Chuck is still loath to concede defeat. Even if she can't easily escape the pin that doesn't mean she's going to be a gracious loser. 'Cheater.'

'If you say so.' He sounds far too smug, like he's enjoying this.

Annoyed and increasingly frustrated, with herself as much as anything, she tries the truly stupid thing. There's only really one way out from under him without admitting the loss, if she can just throw his balance... Before she can think better of it, Chuck plants her feet, boosting her leverage, and gives a sharp push upwards with her hips.

It doesn't work, not catching him enough off guard as he's instantly pushing her right back down again, hard. Fuck. She has to stop herself immediately trying it a second time on impulse, not because she's got any chance of throwing him off but because that was some sweet friction. Hopefully, he dismisses the rather shameful whine that slips out of her as mere disappointment. Shit, that was a fucking terrible idea.

Herc tightens his grip on her arms, making it quite clear that she's not going anywhere. 'Now _that_ was cheating.'

If this was a dream now would be the part where he kisses her, but it's not and he won't. No matter how imploringly she looks up at him. Still, she can't stop thinking about how much she'd really like to just lean up and get a proper taste. It'd be so easy to close that last gap and do it, there's barely any space left between them. That's what this moment needs, and maybe then they can- 

_No. You can't. He won't. Stop._

'Okay, fine, you win.' Squeezing her eyes shut, Chuck tries to push those dangerous thoughts away. _Don't ruin this._ At least she shouldn't be able to blush, all her blood's clearly going completely the other way. No. Yes. No. 'Just get off me now.'

Maybe it's just her imagination but it feels like there's this tiny hesitation before he shifts, swinging himself off her to sit on the mats instead. Who's she kidding, he doesn't see anything off about this, why should he? She's just his daughter. Shit, that thought shouldn't make feel nearly as terrible as it does. This is fucking impossible.

For a good long minute she doesn't even move, pretending that she's not already missing him. Now, _this_ is definitely something that could show up in the Drift. Fuck.

Eventually he nudges her in the side. 'Don't tell me you've gone to sleep down there.'

At least he's not reacting badly. It's good that he's acting as though nothing happened, because it didn't, not really. Still, it stings a little, much as Chuck tries to pretend that it doesn't. Of course he wouldn't have felt anything, he's not sick.

'Oh, shut up.' Pushing down on her disappointment, she aims a soft punch at his shoulder, definitely not blushing at all. _Maybe you can stop smiling at me like that while you're at it._

-

A couple of hours and at least three checks of her room later, she's painfully aware that it's almost time to leave. No amount of pacing has been able to shut out her sense of the minutes ticking by. If it hadn't been for the risk of getting too distracted, and the fact that she probably wouldn't have the place to herself, Chuck would have taken another detour back to the punching bag long ago. Which is why it's with as much relief as apprehension that she turns to the door when a knock finally comes.

She's not surprised to find that Mako is the one waiting on the steps, and it certainly wouldn't surprise her if the Marshal had sent her along in order to keep things on schedule. 'Ready to go?'

'Pretty much.' She steps aside to let her in one last time.

It doesn't look all that much more spartan than before in here, it's not like she'd exactly gone crazy stamping her mark on the room. This was always nothing more than a temporary space. Chuck has no special attachment to it, not having gotten particularly sentimental or anything as she'd packed up. Just to be thorough she's even stripped the bed, in order to really leave things as she found it.

The older cadet is barely over the threshold before she frowns at her and comes straight out with the inevitable; 'Have you been up all night?'

'No.' Chuck sighs, rubbing a hand over her eyes, she thinks she'd had a fifteen-minute nap in there somewhere. 'Only most of it.'

'Excited? Worried?' Taking a seat on the edge of the spare bed, Mako doesn't hesitate to probe further.

'Honestly, a bit of both.' She sinks down onto her own mattress – which very soon won't be – the weight of it pressing down on her again. It's almost hard to believe that this is it, that she's really finished here, although it's getting decidedly more real with every passing minute. 'It's just so-'

'Big?'

'I guess.' Not exactly the word she would've gone for herself, but it does accurately sum up the sentiment even if it fails to cover the intricacies of what she's feeling. Chuck is sure that it's not going to be as simple as it should be, despite the fact that she's turning sixteen in just over a week set to remove at least one of the strikes against her.

Mako picks up on her nerves easily enough, but if she's tired of repeating herself she doesn't show it. 'You've earned this.'

'By being Herc's daughter.' There's still a part of her that can't quite dismiss that thought, it _was_ the main reason the Marshal let her into the Academy in the first place.

Her friend's expression darkens, arms crossing. It's a line of thought that she doesn't have any tolerance for, probably because she carries around a similar weight of her own. 'We're here to fight Kaiju, if you weren't up to it you would've been cut months ago. You would not be with him if you weren't the best choice, he could have matched up with someone else without a problem.'

The point stings, because it's true. He isn't the incompatible one. Chuck digs her fingers into the mattress, the thought of anyone else Drifting with him instead of her filling her with a surge of red-hot anger. Fucked-up _and_ possessive; she just keeps on getting worse.

'Yeah, you're right, I'm being stupid.' Shaking her head, she forces herself back to her feet, the less said about that the better. It's not like they have time for this, there's a flight to catch. 'Suppose I need to get a handle on this confidence thing, don't I? Youngest Jaeger pilot ever and all that, I've got nothing to be nervous about.'

Mako rolls her eyes good-naturedly, heading for the door. 'Watch it, you don't want to go too far the other way.'

Slinging one bag over her shoulder and scooping the other up by the handle, Chuck pauses to take one last glance around the room. It seems like so long ago that she'd first walked in here, exhausted from long-haul public transport, desperate to prove herself and going crazy waiting for news of him. Hard to believe it's only been twenty-two weeks. Back then she never even dared to imagine she'd be leaving the Academy with him, as his co-pilot... Without any regret, she flicks off the light and seals the door behind her. No more Kaiju drills, it'll only be the real thing from here on out.

It's a quiet walk out of the barracks, her committing the place to memory in spite of herself. Outside the sky's clear, a bright day but still not an especially warm one. Alaska's climate is another tick on the list of things she won't be sorry to leave behind. At least she never has to see what winter's like up here. And finally she'll be able to get away without having to wear multiple layers all the time, honestly, she thinks her skin's actually ended up going paler from the lack of sunlight. 

Tilting her head back, she judges that the flight conditions are pretty good, no real wind to speak of, it shouldn't be too bumpy a ride. A Sikorsky sits ready on the tarmac a little way off, it's a proper executive PPDC craft but Chuck's confident it could start to feel plenty claustrophobic in a few hour's time.

Although she wasn't really expecting anything else, there's not much in the way of a seeing off party. Just the Marshal, naturally. Herc's already there, the two of them conversing easily enough, which is also not unexpected. She really hopes that they don't talk nearly this much when they aren't, you know, in the same time zone and everything.

'I hope it is a good journey.' Mako breaks the silence, possibly wanting to exchange words before reaching the hearing range of her adoptive father. Which really isn't such a bad idea.

'Fingers crossed.' It's a _long_ way back to Sydney, if she doesn't manage to sleep she'll be dead on her feet by the time they get there. 'Good luck with the compatibility trials.'

'Thank you.' As she looks down at the ground, hesitating, it's almost like her pre-test anxiety has come back for some reason. 'But I am not sure the Marshal intends for me to progress any further.'

' _What?_ ' Seriously? Chuck can't believe that, and yet, looking at the stern man she can't put it past him either. 'That's bullshit! He'd have to be an _idiot_ not to-'

A rather pointed expression from Mako silences her just in time to avoid having to say her rather choice words directly to the man's face. Just because she's got one foot out the door of the Academy that doesn't make it any less of a bad idea to piss him off, Pentecost is in charge of the Jaeger Program as a whole after all.

No less annoyed on her friend's behalf, she leans a little closer and drops her voice. 'Be stubborn, yeah? Don't take no for an answer.'

'And you take care of yourself.' Mako smiles back, although there's no doubting that it's muted. Desperate as she is to get in a Conn-Pod it's clear that she will only fight her father figure so far. Well, Chuck's hardly one to talk anyway. 

Neither of them says it but they will miss each other; for all their differences there's a common experience between them. It's a rare thing to find someone who sees the person first, the connection second anymore. She can't quite resist narrowing her eyes slightly at the Marshal though, _swear to God if you don't let her..._

'Safe journey. I look forward to hearing how the test-run goes.' He's still not entirely warmed to her, but there's a sort of respect in his manner. If nothing else he knows that she won't let Herc down, everything after that is pretty immaterial.

Fortunately Pentecost doesn't feel the need to throw in a full-blown speech for good measure. A gust has started to pick up as the Sikorsky's rotors come to life, rather putting an end to any further conversation, they've got a schedule to stick to after all. Although she's already turning to go her dad puts a hand on her back, just to be sure or something. He makes it so casual, tactile as ever, this morning's little incident already forgotten. But shit, she wishes it wasn't. It's terrible but she wants it to have meant something to him. This could well turn into torture.

And now they've got practically a whole day stuck in a confined space with only each other for company and nothing else to do. What could possibly go wrong?

Before climbing the steps into the cabin she shoots one last look over her shoulder at Mako, who is sticking by the Marshal's side with a more impassive mask back in place. Hopefully it won't be so very long before they see each other again, although maybe it's more questionable than she'd like that it'll be in the field itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's goodbye to the Academy (and to Mako, for now), which means it's time to move on to bigger and (hopefully) better things. And maybe a complication or two, who knows?
> 
> Anyway, thanks for stopping by, you awesome readers, and happy holidays.


	17. Proving Ground

Just as she'd planned – or at least hoped – Chuck ends up sleeping for upwards of half the journey, immensely thankful for the tinted windows which save her having to stick her jacket over her head to shut out the persistent light. That isn't enough to stop it getting a little tedious, though, flying almost the full length of the Pacific Ocean doesn't exactly make for the most thrilling experience. Hour after hour of featureless water, it gets real old real fast. Yeah, she's pretty sure she'll never get used to long slogs like this, but she's going to have to at least learn to tolerate them. By their very nature Jaegers are bound to move around plenty, the Pacific Rim's a rather large perimeter to cover. Although it's still probably a bit early to be worrying about that, the assignment's not a hundred percent official just yet.

That said, she vastly prefers the Sikorsky to the passenger planes, it somehow feels a lot less claustrophobic. The cabin's a good size, with a row of seats each, a decent toilet and enough space to pace around, even if it does start to feel a little more caged in past the twelfth hour or so. As the cockpit's separated off it still feels private, which is almost as much a blessing as it is a curse. It's so much easier to do stupid shit when it's just the two of them, which is probably why Chuck ends up curled shamelessly into his side all too quickly. As if getting all cosy like this is the most natural and innocent thing in the world.

She barely sees the crew at all, except for the couple of occasions when they have a fuelling stop and she takes the opportunity to get out to stretch her legs. Suffice to say that Hawaii has a _much_ better climate than Alaska. There's about four stopovers in total, to refuel and swap over pilots, though she completely misses one on account of being crashed out. And not one dream the whole time, miraculously.

In the end, an insistent hand on her shoulder stirs her out of her latest sleep, his voice a low whisper. 'Eyes open, we're almost there.'

'Almost?' Groaning, she refuses to budge, screwing her eyes tighter and making herself more comfortable. 'Gimme a few more minutes.'

'You're going to be stiff enough as it is.' Herc warns, even though the way he rubs her arm somewhat undermines his supposed annoyance. Realising that this attempt is equally failing, he tries again. 'Come on, you don't want to miss this view.'

Fuck the view. Raising her head to say as much Chuck belatedly registers the fact that she's completely horizontal instead of mostly vertical. She frowns, when did _that_ happen? Last she remembers she'd still been leaning up against him like a tired, lovesick idiot. So... With a delayed sense of foreboding she takes in what she's been using as a pillow this whole time. Oh. _Bugger._

More effective than anything Herc's yet attempted, the realisation has her bolting up like a shot. Her head. His lap. How long even- Shit, any time at all is too long for that.

While the rapid movement leaves her with a momentary rush of dizziness, Chuck still makes a point of scooting a little further away from him. Thankfully it's still dark enough in here that he can't see the extent of her mortification, she just hopes that nobody else managed to catch sight of that compromising position. Why hadn't he just pushed her off, seriously?

'You okay?'

'Yep.' Her voice totally doesn't go at all squeaky as she says it and she is absolutely not hiding by turning all her attention towards the nearest window. _Smooth._ 'This damn view'd better be worth it, you know.'

'Or what?' There's a playful note of challenge in the question.

She resists the urge to glance back at him, refusing to dignify that with a response or let on to the entirely unintentional effect his words have on her. Instead, she'll just have to go extra hard on him next time in the kwoon to make up for it.

Despite it being darker than the last time she was awake there's a pre-dawn glow to the world outside, giving it all a vague air of unreality. A long expanse of coastline stretches out below, familiar yet different, as the helicopter sweeps along above the water. The angle's actually a lot better than the one she'd got from the plane, heart aching in spite of herself at the sight. It doesn't hurt as much as last time, despite the fact that she can still clearly picture the path of Scissure as it'd torn through this skyline almost five years ago. Because, much as those memories still ache like an old wound, it's not quite so raw anymore. Her exile is over.

Set at a bit of a distance from the main bulk of the city, built onto a headland to overlook the waters of Port Jackson and the Pacific itself, the Sydney Shatterdome looms large. Even though she's seen it in plenty of pictures nothing can quite prepare for the sheer scale of the sprawling facility, and Chuck's sure it'll look even more intimidating up close. Obviously, it's got to be big, the place has to house Jaegers and everything that goes with operating them within its walls, but knowing that doesn't make it any less impressive. It's colossal, impossible to be mistaken for anything other than military design; brutal and efficient. Several gigantic bay doors lead onto the waterfront, each emblazoned with an identifying number in weatherworn white paint. Okay, it's a good view, she'll give him that.

The chopper wheels round on its final approach and just like that the last of her tiredness is very much gone. Instead, her stomach starts to twist with fresh nerves, because this is _it_. Next stop the Mark-5 Conn-Pod, and then onto the Kaiju. Maybe then she can stop feeling quite so horrendously guilty for the way she looks at him, once she's actually done something valuable.

If she wasn't quite so on edge Chuck probably would've missed the vehicle touching down, it's so smoothly done. The desire to jump straight out and properly stretch her legs is only tempered slightly by an instinctive hesitance. About a dozen serious what ifs are busy multiplying in her mind right now, making her fingers itch. But, barring those refuelling stops, she's spent nearly an entire day cooped up in this cabin and fresh air seems like a _really_ good idea.

It's not as warm as she'd have liked when she steps out onto the helipad, but it's winter and still a damn sight better than Kodiak. There's not masses of activity up on the deck right now – it's still a bit early in the day for that – though a small crew quickly swoops in to take care of the Sikorsky. Standing in front of the lift door is what she guesses to be the welcoming committee; one man. Chuck feels like she can see a pattern beginning to form here. Of course, it's pretty obvious that this is the Sydney Shatterdome's Commander, William Bauer, one step down from the Marshal and the person in charge of operations on this stretch of the Rim.

Sticking to the following approach, she shoulders her bags and trails over a couple of steps behind Herc, nervous in spite of herself. Far better to play this one safe, Jack's never had anything particularly positive to say about Bauer, so she knows to brace for the worst. He's clearly old military, grizzled and impassive, exactly the sort of person who'd take badly to this sort of thing.

Though he doesn't move an inch the Commander raises his voice in greeting; 'Welcome back, Sergeant, it's good to have you with us again.'

'Good to be back, sir.' There's a slight straightening in Herc's posture but he doesn't go so far as saluting. After all, the PPDC's ostensibly not a military organisation; one of the loopholes that's let her get as far as she has.

She comes to a stop next to him and, on cue, they both turn to look at her in a way that totally doesn't make her feel on the spot or anything.

At this range she sees quite clearly the way Bauer's expression twists with an unmistakable condescension as he takes her in. He couldn't make it much more obvious that he isn't at all convinced, not particularly trying to hide his disapproval. 'And this is the daughter. The fifteen-year-old.'

Bristling, Chuck bites back her instinctive retort; as appealing as glaring is it seems safer to go with an insincere smile instead. Less openly hostile, they don't want to get off on the wrong foot here or anything. 'That would be me, yes.'

Before the atmosphere can turn any icier, Herc cuts in, trying to diffuse things without actively taking a side. 'It's been a long journey...'

'Of course, Alaska's rather the distant point. I'll just show you to your new quarters now.' Bauer appears to take it at face value, even as he throws another unimpressed glance her way.

Wonderful, this is really off to a _great_ start. She makes a concerted effort not to let the irritation show, even as her shoulders slump once the Commander turns to head inside. Whatever his opinion of her personally, Pentecost had at least understood that she was capable of this. Now she has to prove it all over again, to someone who's clearly made his mind up against her. As she follows, Chuck hopes that this all won't be enough to change Herc's opinion. From the looks of it that's definitely what Bauer wants to happen.

In keeping with the scale of the facility, the cargo lift is big enough to fit a small truck. But she guesses that it's justified since this is definitely more of a service entrance. Bauer starts talking again quickly enough, pointedly only ever addressing her dad, although it's not like she'd really know half the stuff he's referring to in the since-you-were-last-here update anyway. A lot of it's to do with the various Jaeger teams that have rotated through in the last few months, making up for the fact that there's only the one Mark-3 permanently stationed in the Dome at the moment. In his opinion, they've all been less than optimal in some way or another. That and one of Vulcan Spectre's pilots has been doing something involving loudspeakers and theme music. The way he tells it the place has been chaos in Herc's absence. Apparently, Jack has been leaving all the most interesting stuff out of their phone calls.

Still, the extended exclusion feels quite purposeful, the Commander not even pretending to care that there's a third person in this lift. Standing on Herc's other side, she looks at the ceiling and counts off the seconds. Two can play at this ignoring game. Any minute now the man's going to start talking about her as if she's not here, she's sure of it. On the bright side Herc doesn't commit to the conversation all that much, shooting regular looks in her direction.

After what feels like an age - but is probably no more than a couple of minutes - the lift jerks to a halt. The doors slide open on a pretty nondescript corridor, the Commander striding off ahead the second there's a wide enough gap. If she didn't know better she'd say he was trying to leave her behind or something. This area of the Dome is definitely the sort of place it'd be easy to get lost in, there being little to distinguish one featureless corridor from the next to her uninitiated eyes.

While there's definite design similarities to the Academy it's not quite the same, the ceilings seem higher and there's a lot more visible piping running along the walls. It might just be her but the colour also seems a little warmer, more earthy and brown than dull, cold grey. There's a few people up and about here, which isn't much of a surprise, and Chuck's mood sours a little further as she detects stares. That's really not going to stop being a thing, is it? Well, maybe once the novelty wears off in her case, but she has her doubts that it's all it is as far as her dad's concerned.

Eventually, having failed to shake her off, Bauer halts at a fairly standard, nondescript door in what she guesses are the upper reaches of the living quarters. 'Get settled and I'll see you in LOCCENT at 0800 hours.'

With a nod, Herc turns away, pointedly holding the door open for her when she fails to immediately follow suit. It's hard to resist shooting a parting look at the Commander, giving him an exaggerated smile before she takes her cue and ducks inside. If he wants to be a little bitch about this then it's hardly her fault if she responds in kind. To her credit, Chuck can practically hear the various expressions of disapproval and warning she's earning; _don't piss off the authority figure if you know what's good for you_. Impulse control. Manners. Shit.

Already across the room, digging around for some fresh clothes, her dad's quick to assure her; 'Nobody likes Bauer at first.'

She scoffs, rolling her eyes even though he can't see the action. 'I can't imagine why.'

'He can't overrule the Marshal's decision.' Herc is getting far too good at reading her, brushing past on his way to the bathroom. 'He'll come round, once the demo's over.'

'Sure he will.' Chuck mutters it under her breath, she has no illusions about how difficult this is likely to be. Her stupid fucking age. Pentecost's decision may be final in theory, but bureaucracy is all too capable of derailing it. This Mark-5 is a hundred billion dollars' worth of investment, red-tape is inevitable. Enough fuss and, well, that could be the end of it.

Rather than dwell on that rather depressing thought, she focuses a little more attention on taking in the room. It's slightly bigger than her Academy quarters, but that's not such a surprise. They're going to be here for the long haul, except when on leave or deployed overseas. Still, it's not the cosiest place, being concrete and all, no window either. She's just never going to see the sun again, isn't she? Lockers, desk, the usual sort of stuff contrasts with the more high-tech deployment monitor and a set of multicoloured lights which she can safely assume to be the Kaiju alarm. That'll be fun to live with. But the thing that her attention really catches on are the bunk beds. Is space really at that much of a premium? Fuck, if she makes any sort of noise at night he is definitely going to know about it...

This arrangement is going to take some getting used to, that's for sure. Of course, it's standard practice for co-pilots to room together, speeds up deployment times and all that. Nothing personal. Although they'd probably have insisted on sticking her in with him anyway, what with this whole hang-up everyone's still got about her age.

When it's her turn in the bathroom – a smallish room fitted with a sliding door to save on space – Chuck pulls out her own quick change of clothes. She's been sitting in these for far too long, probably smells disgusting. Locked in, as alone as she's probably going to be for a while, she takes the chance to breathe, stick her face under the tap and get some of her bearings back. Fortunately, the test run isn't going to be until tomorrow; it goes rather without saying that it's a bad idea to stick someone with jet-lag straight in a brand new, state-of-the-art Jaeger for the first time.

Only once she feels decidedly less icky does she step back out, pretending that she didn't just check how she looked in the mirror. So what, first impressions are important. It turns out that Herc took the initiative while she was gone and has claimed the bottom bunk. Well, that's a bit of a relief, at least it saves her the trouble of trying to figure out the etiquette or whatever. He's lying on his side, facing away from her, so there's no way he can know quite how long or hard she stares. His shirt's ridden up slightly and she has real trouble tearing her eyes away from the sliver of exposed skin. God, how is she ever supposed to live like this?

Rather than even trying to get up onto the second bunk, and likely making a fool of herself in the process, once she manages to shake herself free Chuck goes to unpack instead. It wasn't all that long ago that she was asleep, after all, so now that she's awake and free to move about she needs to do something to pass the time. Something that _isn't_ ogling her possibly sleeping, far, _far_ too attractive dad. At least her body-clock's already mostly adjusted to the time zone thanks to the journey, maybe she can pretend that was really her idea all along.

-

It's impossible to miss how well Herc knows his way around. She can't help feeling kind of like a sheep as she trails around after him, all the while doing her best to memorise the route through the labyrinth of corridors that make up the living area of the Shatterdome. The place is like a scaled-up rabbit warren and is even more lacking in daylight than the Academy had been. Something tells her that there aren't many windows in the building, the PPDC is just allergic to glass. If the air con's not good enough then this place could be unbearable in the summer heat.

LOCCENT is... well, it's busy. The command centre is packed with screens, computers and all manner of monitors that spread across both the walls and an array of desks. Somehow they've managed to leave some floor space to move around on in amongst it all, allowing the various workers to dart around without getting too much in the way of each other. There seems to be at least one person to every two screens or information feeds, the low hum of the computers mixing together with the few quiet conversations going on. As the door slides shut behind them she glances up and clocks the particularly large digital timer positioned prominently above it. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years; counting down to the next Kaiju. Though that last one seems a little over-optimistic, seeing as the attacks seem to be speeding up if anything.

But, it's the window that takes up the entire front wall of the mezzanine that really captures her attention, or rather what's through it; the Jaeger hangar. Now _that's_ what she's here to see. Tuning out pretty much everything else, Chuck wastes no time heading over for a proper look. On the other side of the reinforced glass, the floor falls away to the ground twenty-odd storeys below. The people moving around down there help give it an even better sense of scale, as if there was any doubt that this place takes up the bulk of the Shatterdome complex. Walkways are clustered around the various visible bays, threading across at intervals and varying heights. Almost directly opposite she can make out the currently headless form of Vulcan Spectre. Shit, they're even more impressive in person. She's dying to get a closer look at it, and she knows Horizon Brave's around here somewhere too...

'Not a bad view, huh?'

Seated behind the main command console is a guy with surprisingly messy hair, mid-to-late twenties at a guess, who's casually tossing a stress ball between his hands. Like pretty much everyone else in the room he's dressed in various shades of blue, although he's probably the only one with a bandanna knotted round his neck.

'I suppose.' Shrugging, she dismisses the vantage point, they'll be heading down soon enough anyway. Don't want to seem too green, Rangers don't fangirl over Jaegers like that, not in public anyway.

Not giving up that easily, he slides the chair a little nearer and catches her eye. 'Hansen junior, right?'

'Yeah.' That's kind of a stupid question, who the hell else is she going to be?

'Nico Vasquez, LOCCENT Mission Controller. I'll be the one egging you on in the Conn-Pod.' He beams, giving a breezy mock-salute by way of introduction. 'Welcome to the Dome.'

Making the mistake of glancing towards the exit, Chuck catches sight of a visibly impatient Bauer waiting, arms crossed and looking grouchy. Even though he blatantly wasn't there a minute ago. Irritation must just be his resting face.

Not wanting to poke the hornets' nest, she vaguely jerks her head in acknowledgment of the Controller with a mumbled; 'Thanks.'

Once she's got the Jaeger safely to her name then she can think about loosening up a little.

'If you're quite ready.' Though Bauer's expression doesn't change there's no denying the icy undertone in his voice.

Yep, definitely can't go relaxing just yet. She's not sure how she'll ever be able to tolerate getting in a lift with the man again after today, at least without punching him. Fortunately, the Commander doesn't feel the need to waste everybody's time with a full tour of the building, making straight for the bays and the Mark-5. Of course, she could probably find her own way around the vast, open space that is the hangar, and it'd be more enjoyable if she didn't feel like her every reaction's being judged. Because it's damn hard not to be visibly impressed. If anything it seems even vaster down on ground level, Chuck craning her neck back to get a good look at the ceiling. Seeing this place with her own eyes is really something else.

There isn't quite the same concentration of hectic activity on the floor as she'd seen up in LOCCENT, although it's not all that far off. It brings to mind all the vivid descriptions she's heard of Jack's crazy work days, making her silently hope that the technician doesn't decide to come find her just yet. His exuberance really won't help endear her to the Commander. A huddle of techs in golden-coloured uniforms hurry past, her eyes instinctively tracking after them and ah, there's Horizon. 

As with Vulcan the Chinese Mark-1 is currently without its Conn-Pod, the delicate nature of its machinery requiring it to be stored well clear of the Jaeger's nuclear power source. Right now it'll be housed in the upper reaches of the building, adjacent to a Drivesuit Room, ready for deployment at a minute's notice. The Cryo-cannons normally mounted on the mech's shoulders are also missing, for maintenance she guesses. It's a little strange seeing a Jaeger not combat ready. No less impressive, though.

As they pass by Vulcan's bay she vaguely wonders which of the empty ones used to house Lucky Seven, more than a little glad that the wrecked Jaeger isn't anywhere to be found. The fewer reminders of that nightmare the better, traces of Mawgrim already show up in the Drift far more often than she'd like.

The final bay, at the furthest end of the Dome, is closed off. No prizes for guessing what's in there, though she kind of has to wonder at the point of it. Is a big reveal really necessary? That doesn't mean her skin prickles with anticipation any less, though. She's not got much of an idea what to expect from the Mark-5 but she knows without a doubt that it's going to be good. 

Because this is just turning out to be one of _those_ days there's a pair of extra people clearly waiting for them by the entrance. Just to switch things up a bit they're both women, one standing loosely at attention in a plain J-Tech uniform and the other seated in a wheelchair, looking kind of like she's just rolled off the set of a cyberpunk film. Frowning, Chuck takes a moment to place where she's seen the seemingly out of place woman before, although the knowledge doesn't do much for her confusion. Kit Lee, former Mark-2 pilot; why of all people would she be here?

'Hi, hi!' The retired Ranger has a rather disconcerting grin, it's a little hard to see any particular similarities with her cousin Henry. He was never anywhere near this... quirky. 'We were beginning to think we were going to have to sit here all day.'

Bauer's face stays entirely straight, even if Kit seems to be very firmly in a number of categories of person he'd object to. So he _can_ play nice then? 'Sorry to keep you waiting.'

'Ah, it was a joke, man. We do nothing _but_ sit these days.' If there's any pain behind the joke the woman hides it well. Everybody knows how she'd gotten into that wheelchair, an abrupt failure in the Conn-Pod rig that'd killed her co-pilot and left her paraplegic. It'd been quite a scare, even if the PPDC had managed to get back on top of it fast enough. 

With a breeziness that could just as easily be real as not, Kit swivels and abruptly changes subject. 'Nice to see you again, Herc.'

'You too.' He nods back easily; though Rangers from the earlier days of the Program tend to know each other anyway they'd been on a drop together a couple years back. Singapore. Lucky's first kill.

While Chuck's still recalling the details the former pilot turns on her like a searchlight. 'And the prodigy!'

 _Prodigy?_ Well, that at least seems like a positive reaction, much as it kind of makes her want to sink through the floor with embarrassment. That doesn't feel like a label she's even remotely earned, though it's a clear improvement on the others she's already heard today. She has a _name_ , for fuck's sake.

Oblivious to any of her discomfort, Kit wheels herself a little closer with barely contained enthusiasm. 'She's an excellent machine, you know, we think you're going to get along great.'

'Uh-huh.' Much as she appreciates the apparent vote of confidence, that's not something she's entirely sure how to respond to, glancing at her dad for help.

'Ms Lee has had a hand in designing the new sensor array.' Finally speaking up, the J-Tech officer is the one to come to her rescue instead with the explanation.

Herc frowns slightly, apparently having not expected to find his old comrade here either. 'I thought you'd gone into shipping?'

'On the one hand.' The former Ranger spins her chair dramatically, starting off towards the sealed bay and calling back over her shoulder. 'On the other, we have the interesting stuff.'

Bauer seems to come as close as he possibly can to rolling his eyes at that, cheek twitching with suppressed exasperation. Without any comment, the Commander stalks straight off after her, probably in the interests of keeping Kit from touching anything. How anyone can be expected to work with the guy hovering around disapprovingly is beyond Chuck.

'She always was a bit intense.' Herc explains when she raises an eyebrow at him. _That's putting it mildly._

'They say that the crash really messed with her head.' The technician adds in a slightly lowered voice, hanging back rather than trying to catch up with their moody superior. She can't blame her.

'Olivia, you've got the lead on this?' By way of belated greeting Herc smiles at the woman, far too brightly. And just like that any good opinion Chuck had of her instantly evaporates.

Oh.

_No._

Of course, it's perfectly inevitable that he's already going to know people here, he and Scott were stationed here since the place came online. And really it's not all that surprising that at least some of Lucky's tech crew are still around. It makes sense to reassign experienced techs to the Mark-5, providing they haven't already been seconded somewhere else. But this, _this_ , is not something she ever wanted to come across. History.

Feeling slightly sick, she falls a couple of steps behind to take a second look at the technician. Unfortunately, she's the type you'd call classically pretty, with blonde hair and cheekbones and symmetry, even if the J-Tech uniform isn't the most flattering thing in the world. Thankfully. But there is definitely something in the way the woman's eying him. Shit. No. Chuck glances back and forth, increasingly worried. He can't- She'd _know_ if he had feelings for anyone, wouldn't she?

Fuck this day. Fuck it so hard.

With a sort of modest shrug, _Olivia_ smiles back. 'Sure have. Callahan wound up in LA, so I got seniority by default.'

'Congratulations.'

Before the two of them have a chance to get any deeper into fond reminiscence or exchange more significant looks – Chuck valiantly suppressing the urge to break something – they're at the entrance to the bay. Or rather, a somewhat flimsy door in the panelling that's blocking it from general view. The others have already gone straight on ahead, Bauer quite happy to forget that he's supposed to be showing someone else around, and for just a second she hesitates. It's a big damn moment, this, which she is _not_ going to spoil by being all jealous and shit.

Pointedly ignoring the fact that nobody seems to notice her lagging like this, Chuck squares her shoulders, breathes out and gets her confidence back in place. She can hide it, of course she can. No big deal. But, for all her good intentions, the resolution, and everything else, gets driven clean out of her mind as soon as she's inside the bay. _Damn_ , that's one hell of a Jaeger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least those bunk beds are sure to make for some fun...
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, lovely readers, hopefully it was worth the slight wait.


	18. Eureka

_That's ours._

Bauer's disapproval, Olivia and the way Herc smiles at her; right now nothing else matters, because that beaut of a Jaeger eclipses it all. Though it might not be quite as tall as some of the older models the Mark-5 has a definite, undeniable presence, Conn-Pod already in place. Fin-like extensions on its back add a little extra height, stabilisers of some sort she guesses, and there's a definite bulkiness in the chest section. A defensive design, perhaps? The fittings on the arms look rather more promising, and she's a little excited to find out just what sort of weaponry their Jaeger is packing. Because it is theirs. No doubt about it.

'Good, eh?' Happily taking the opportunity to ditch the Commander, Kit rolls herself over, a little more reverent than before in the presence of the Mark-5.

Good really doesn't even begin to cover it. There aren't the words to do her thoughts justice, so she just nods, attention wandering right back to the Jaeger.

Understanding, the former Ranger lowers her voice. 'Been waiting a while for this, haven't you?'

'You could say that.' Her greenness must be obvious, but it's hard to worry about being impassive when their Jaeger is _right there_. The reality of it is suddenly even more tangible, like this is the point where it all stops being an ambition and becomes truth.

'Take it from us, nothing can beat it.' There's a raw, wistful expression on the woman's face as she looks longingly up at the Conn-Pod. If her body had let her there's no doubt that Kit would've been straight back into the field. But, catching herself, she rushes to cover it up quickly. 'Where are our manners, we're supposed to be introducing you to your Jaeger.'

Rather than taking the honours onto herself, however, the ex-pilot powers over to interrupt the other pair, who are still chatting away without a care. Somewhat reluctantly, Chuck follows, torn between not wanting to witness any more of that cosiness and thinking that maybe getting in the way would actually be a really good idea. Settling on the thought that the less private time the two of them get the better, she plants herself and does her best not to glare at the lead technician.

'Winchester, you know the specs better than we do.' With impressive smoothness, Kit cuts straight into their conversation. It might have been a little embarrassing if it wasn't doing her such a massive favour.

Entirely unfazed by the intrusion, Olivia has the decency to at least look a little apologetic. Not enough, though, not nearly enough. 'Of course, it probably goes without saying that the Mark-5's entirely digital, nice and clean. It also tops the scale for both speed and power and is capable of greater agility than most of the older Jaegers. To ensure aerodynamic balance is maintained during combat, we have the T-16 Angel Wing stabilisers which incorporate thrusters at the back for additional boosts.

'In terms of offensive capability, you'll see that the joints of each finger extension are moulded with a brass-steel compound. That about doubles the impact potential of each punch, and it's temperature-resistant. Those sections on the arm are the housing for what we call the Sting-Blades; twin retractable blades laced with carbon nanotubes which channel temperatures in excess of a hundred and fifty degrees Celsius, perfect for Kaiju cauterisation.'

Clearly the technician takes more than a little pride in the machine, she had a hand in at least some of its construction and is the one in charge of its maintenance after all. Doesn't make the Mark-5 _hers_ though, by any stretch of the imagination.

'Sounds impressive.' Herc's seasoned enough to not keep gawking at the Jaeger, although some of it still seeps into his voice. And how much of that compliment is directed at Winchester?

'Oh, it is! See those Conn-Pod windows; that's an amber-platinum alloy, interlaid with the most advanced photochromic sensors the world has ever seen. Pardon the pun. Four planes of situational awareness and the highest resolution yet.' Unable to stay quiet for long, Kit gets progressively more enthusiastic as she talks, her earlier sadness completely subsumed by the chirpy mask. 'And that's not even the best part, is it?'

Slightly less exuberant about it, the lead technician plays along nonetheless. Likely she's had to do this before. 'That would be the WMB2x90 Anti-Kaiju Missile Launcher, mounted in the chest. It has six barrels with a capacity of eighteen rounds total, making for three salvos. Each of those missiles is fitted with our specially designed K-Stunner warheads-'

'Designed to penetrate Kaiju hide before detonating.' The former Ranger is irrepressible, even when it's not her own handiwork. 'Those boys in K-Science have outdone themselves this time.'

But Chuck's still stuck on one particular detail of Winchester's description; ' _Chest_ missiles?' 

Reflexively she glances down at herself, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She's spent enough time on the PPDC fan forums to know that some people will have an absolute field day with this one. When she looks up she catches him eyeing the same area, unable to prevent a slight blush as she quickly crosses her arms. Herc's probably having the same thought, and she wonders if he'd even considered that aspect of things before. Because he must know the sort of stuff that comes from being a pilot, and this will just encourage it. How much would that bother him? Probably not quite as much, or in the same way, as she'd like it to.

Providing a welcome distraction, Kit tuts loudly. 'Better watch that modesty reflex, it's counterproductive to the Drift, you know.'

The almost knowing smirk of the ex-pilot just makes her blush harder, like she isn't already painfully aware of the intimacies of sharing headspace with her dad. And if the ground could just swallow her up now that'd be great.

'Problem?' Sensing an opening, Bauer saunters over, done sulking in the shadows.

'Nope.' Far better than the former Ranger's chiding, the Commander's derision snaps her out of it in an instant. Honestly, how hard would it be to just give her a chance?

Of course, Bauer being Bauer, he doesn't take the hint and digs deeper. 'This Jaeger is a lot of responsibility. It's perfectly understandable if it's too much for you.'

 _Wanker_. Bristling, she curls her hands into fists. If it wasn't guaranteed to lose her everything she's not sure she could restrain herself from trying to deck him for that. Which is probably exactly what he wants, isn't it? 

Aiming for as level and unaffected a tone as possible, Chuck plasters on an equally condescending smirk. 'Good thing I'm not easily intimidated.'

Bauer's mouth presses into a thin line, the dislike practically radiating off him. Oh, yeah, she was supposed to not be pissing the senior authority figure off, wasn't she? Whoops.

'Well, you know what they say about over-confidence. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a Shatterdome to run.'

Though he doesn't go as far as shouldering past her, the sourness of the Commander's mood is pretty damn obvious as he stalks off. Even if they ace the test run, if she goes on to kill a dozen Kaiju, Chuck really doubts that he's ever going to be anything but against her.

'Pft, good riddance to him.' Naturally, it's the only one of them not under the guy's direct command that breaks the silence first, Kit waving him off with disdainful dismissal. 'Sǐ pì yǎn has no idea what it takes to pilot a Jaeger. Now, we think it's about time for a closer look, don't you?'

-

To her great disappointment – and marked relief – there's still no sign of Jack when she enters the mess, tagging along at her dad's heels like usual. Different shifts eat at different times, after all, the Shatterdome has to run around the clock, ready to respond at any given moment. There's no doubt that the technician will track her down soon enough, although she'd prefer not to have that happen in front of such a crowd. And there is definitely a fair number of people already in here, a mix of the various divisions at work in the Dome. Members of Vulcan and Horizon's support crews are easily identifiable, the decals of their respective Jaegers emblazoned on their uniforms. They're also helpfully colour-coded, just like how LOCCENT staff seem to stick with blue, with gold for the Chinese Jaeger and black for the Mark-3.

Making matters worse, Herc decides to go over and sit at the same table as the only people she can distinctly recognise. If the Shatterdome Commander objects to a fifteen-year-old pilot then it doesn't seem all that likely that active Rangers will be especially impressed with her either. Admittedly Kit hadn't disliked her, not to mention the fact that she turns sixteen in a week anyway. Besides, Vulcan Spectre's pilots are probably the least likely to take that sort of view of her, as a team without a single kill to their name who specialise in a predominantly defensive strategy.

Kaia Ryan, the right hemisphere pilot, is currently gesturing wildly with a fork while Lucas Nguyen nods passively along. Chuck merits a quick glance but nothing more when she slides onto the bench, the point being made evidently of greater importance right now.

'-but _why_ does such an arbitrary number matter so much?'

Lucas shakes his head; either unable or unwilling to even try answering such a question. 'It is just how it is.'

'See, now why can nobody come up with a real answer? Surely that _proves_ that it's a fallacy?' The Kiwi throws up her hands, coming perilously close to inadvertently lobbing the fork across the mess.

Ignoring his co-pilot, and the animated way she's continuing to gesticulate to herself, Lucas finally turns his attention in their direction. 'Good trip?'

'Long.' Herc responds easily, albeit with some slight trace of weariness. Then he smiles. 'But worthwhile; this is Chuck.'

'Ah, _finally._ ' Kaia instantly gives up on her muttered rant to direct an inquisitive stare at the newcomer. It's better than another label, but she's a little unnerved by the way her arrival seems to have been anticipated. Not for the first time she wonders if he used to talk about her, whether her absence had been obviously felt.

Clearing his throat, Lucas subtly jabs his co-pilot. 'What she means to say is that it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lucas, that's Kaia; you'll learn to ignore her soon enough.'

'Hey!' Judging by the way he flinches that remark earned him a kick under the table. 'Subordinate, remember?'

Lucas gives a long-suffering shake of the head and just like that the pair devolves back into good-natured discussion, although he still does significantly less of the talking. It seems to be a sort of easy, implicit acceptance as they carry on apparently as normal, as if she isn't intruding. That said, Chuck has the sense that these two are probably an easier sell, although as Herc nudges her – she _was_ getting around to eating – she does have to admit that having him on her side does rather a lot for her. After all, she inherited most of her stubbornness from him in the first place.

Previous assessments of Vulcan's pilots stand up under this closer inspection; they're very relaxed, but still seem like an odd pairing; the Buddhist and the sheep-farmer. Nevertheless, the man puts up with his partner remarkably well, giving her a carefully balanced blend of attention and comment, encouraging but not too much so. Their, mostly one-sided, conversation somehow ends up going all over the place, from the production of tofu to the correct way to cut a deck of cards in a matter of minutes. Even though Chuck's been listening relatively closely she has no idea how they got there. It's a little bewildering but, as she shares amused glances with her own co-pilot, surprisingly relaxing.

'Really looking forward to watching the test run tomorrow, by the way.' Just as she's getting up to leave, Kaia abruptly switches topic yet again, and there goes her ease of mind. It sounds sincere enough, sure, but that doesn't change the fact that it's more pressure. 'Can't wait to see that Mark-5 up and running.'

'It will be nice to not be the only permanent Jaeger team in the Dome anymore.' Lucas adds with a departing nod. These last five and a half months can't have been the most enjoyable for them, even with other teams offering cover.

Wandering leisurely down the mess Vulcan's pilots disappear off, to wherever it is the pair spend their downtime, the continuation of their latest thread of conversation lost amidst the general buzz. Leaving just the two of them at this end of the table, although a few of Vulcan's support crew are huddled together at the other end they're apparently determined not to bother them. Which is really quite fine with her. Now that her attention's up, though, she can't resist having another glance around the room in a, hopefully not too obvious, search for the one tech around here she _does_ know. It's almost starting to feel like he's avoiding her.

'That wasn't so bad, was it?'

Giving up on the apparently futile search, she turns back to Herc and shakes her head in acquiescence. Additional expectations aside, it seemed like she might have vaguely won the pair of Rangers over. In as much as you can win someone over in ten minutes of listening to them talk.

'I guess not.' Maybe she was letting Bauer's negativity get to her too much. Anyone who's been through the Academy ought to know that she wouldn't be here without good reason. At least that's the theory.

-

Co-pilots having to always share quarters is a ridiculous system. It's a terrible, stupid idea and it's obviously going to cause her nothing but trouble. He'd better be a deep sleeper, but somehow she seriously doubts the chances of that.

Having the top bunk is starting to look like a serious mistake, on any of her sleepless nights she's going to be screwed. Getting up without waking him seems like it'd be difficult at the best of times, and oh fuck, she's going to end up having to climb past him. Well, maybe that wouldn't be _too_ embarrassing. It's not like Herc's going to be watching her or anything, even if does seem like she keeps on catching him just looking away.

What does he even sleep in? No, _don't go there_. Knowing her luck, Chuck is probably going to have to spend half the time with her eyes averted, because she needs to gain some semblance of control over her staring problem. Because it's all so damn wrong and she has to pretend that she knows where to draw the line here. Act normal and just maybe she won't end up fucking this up, maybe it'll go away if she stops indulging it.

 _Right_. Glaring herself down in the mirror, she mentally prepares to give up the relative safety of the bathroom. Fortunately, he'd let her go first, it keeps her from having any crazy meltdowns and locking herself in with the toilet for the night. _Pull yourself together; you're a Ranger._ It's not like this should be a big deal. They _have_ slept in the same room before. Hell, she's even slept _in his bed_ , even if that was only because of that stupid almost-concussion. At least she'd been fully dressed then, though, now? Now she is in fucking pyjamas. Kind of skimpy pyjamas to boot.

Shifting her weight awkwardly, she makes a vain attempt to tug the hem of her shorts further down her thighs. Maybe it would've been better if she'd just stuck with the long ones, but then she'd've ended up overheating. Those dreams always leave her ridiculously sweaty and hell, she does not need to be thinking about that possibility right now. With a frustrated growl, she gives up, grabbing her used clothes and sliding open the door before she has a chance to change her mind again. What does it even matter?

The lights are still on full, but – to her relief and the tiniest bit of disappointment – Herc has his back to her anyway. Focusing on a point somewhere to his left, hoping she doesn't sound as awkward as she feels, she hugs the fabric tighter to her chest. 'All yours.'

'Right.'

Only once he's closed the door behind him does Chuck pad closer to the beds in order to analyse the situation properly. She's never actually gotten into one of these before, what with the Academy's merciful separate bed arrangement. There doesn't appear to be a ladder, which is just wonderful. A concessionary bit of railing goes round the higher bunk, protection against rolling out onto the concrete floor in the middle of the night, but that's it. Right. So she has to pull herself up, she can do that, of course she can. Be a bit of a crappy Ranger if she couldn't even manage to lift her own body weight. But still, shorts and a baggy t-shirt sans bra is not ideal attire.

Well, fuck it, as long as no-one's looking that doesn't matter.

'Need a hand?'

Herc's voice interrupts her just as she is about to try swinging herself up, making her flinch in spite of herself. Shit, that was _fast_. Unless she just spent a lot longer staring apprehensively at the bunk beds than she'd thought. Which is entirely possible.

'No, no.' Chuck goes to glance over her shoulder and immediately rethinks it. 'I've got this.'

'Sure you don't want to swap?' Coming to a stop at her side, he looks between her and the bed, trying to gauge the cause of the delay. 'I wouldn't mind.'

Fuck's sake, she's a big girl, it's not that bad. 'Nah, don't want you throwing your back out or anything.'

'Oi!' The implication seems to offend him more deeply than she'd expected. 'I'm not that old, you know.'

Yeah, she _knows_. It's not like she can forget how well the circuitry suit shows off his body. And his current t-shirt and sweats combination doesn't do all that much to hide it either. Looks good in everything, damn him. Probably looks even better in nothing. _Fuck, eyes forward_. 'Uh huh.'

'Well, you planning on sleeping standing up?' Herc crosses his arms, expectant. When she fails to move or respond he growls; 'Get in the bed.'

 _With you right here?_ But one look at the determined expression on his face has her grabbing the rail and hauling herself up in as nonchalant and graceful a manner as she can manage. Which is basically not very much so at all. She has a disturbingly clear idea of what the manoeuvre looks like from down there – _bad_ – so, face burning, immediately sets about ignoring him by busying herself with the sheets.

'Okay?'

'Peachy.' It comes out through gritted teeth as she narrowly resists the urge to stick her head under the pillow. Lobbing it at him also seems pretty tempting right about now. Stupid, smug, perfect bastard.

Instead, Chuck punches it a couple of times for good measure before hurriedly burying herself in the sheets. More comfortable than the seats in the Sikorsky, except... Resolutely lying still and keeping quiet, she listens as he turns out the lights and gets under the covers. This isn't weird. Well, aside from how she really wants to climb down and join him, that is. And maybe the way she focuses on the sound of his breathing as it gradually starts to even out.

Relaxing as that is, though, she can feel her own insomnia building, mind completely refusing to slow down. Tomorrow's the latest in what's turning into an awfully long line of tests, and her thoughts are a whirlwind of _what if I screw up_ and _maybe I am a mistake_ and _he's going to find out_ and _if I don't sleep this is going to be bad_. It's impossible to turn it off, not without having a way to thoroughly distract herself. At some point Chuck finds that she just can't lie still anymore, her increasing unrest manifesting in more and more aggressive tossing. Fuck, this is no good, she needs to do _something_. Too much sleep on the journey, that's what this is. And nerves, much as she hates to admit it.

She's so focused on her own disquiet that she doesn't register the sound of his sheets shifting until it's too late. Herc doesn't bother hiding his concern, with a sort of tired lilt to his voice that is all sorts of hot. 'What's wrong?'

 _Shit_. One night in and already she's disturbing him, this rooming together deal is just going to work out _so_ well. Chewing on the inside of one cheek, Chuck forces herself to still. How long's he going to need to fall asleep? 'Nothing.'

Unfortunately that doesn't seem to fool him, as the mattress creaks and a moment later he's up. In the near-total darkness one of his hands still manages to find her arm, stroking gently. 'C'mon, talk to me.'

'M fine, don't worry, go to sleep.' Squirming, she doesn't want to make a fuss of this, to look any weaker than she already does. Besides, he should really be sleeping rather than worrying about her.

'With you thrashing around up here?' There's no trace of irritation in his words, but he does have a point. Who the hell ever thought bunk beds were a good idea?

'I'll stop, sorry.' Maybe if she suggested leaving now she could salvage this? Give him some peace, tire herself out and crash elsewhere, if only she knew where Jack's room was.

'Sh, it's fine.' Clearly having no intention of letting her go anywhere, Herc carries on rubbing the bare skin of her arm. He knows her weakness to physical contact too well, sending no doubt unintentional shivers down her spine. 'Just tell me what's bothering you.'

Too weak not to, Chuck gives into temptation and snuggles that little bit closer. Honestly, it's unfair how well he can work her sometimes. 'Don't know, nerves.'

If he's getting sick of having to keep reassuring her he doesn't show it. 'Drifting in a Jaeger's not all that different. Trust me, you can handle this.'

'Sure, it's just-'

'Nobody's taking you away from me.' Practically reading her thoughts, he cuts her off. There's a real fierceness in the way he says it, all traces of tiredness gone. 'That Mark-5's ours, screw anyone who says otherwise.'

Reassured in spite of herself, she can't help a somewhat mischievous smile, it's not like he can see it. 'Even the Commander?'

'Especially the Commander.'

For a long moment they don't need to say anything else, and she just lets herself bask in the comfort of his presence. Sometimes she can't believe that she ever doubts him, the certainty of his feelings as clear as they are right now. Maybe it's not the same way she loves him, but at times like this it doesn't matter. None of it matters. But in the cold light of day it's so hard to hold onto this clarity.

Much as she doesn't want him to go, though, the fact is that they both need to sleep if tomorrow's really going to go off without a hitch. So, momentarily confident, she reaches out and runs her hand across his cheek. 'Go back to bed, Dad.'

Maybe it's just her imagination but she swears he leans into it, sending an all too guilty thrill through her body. But then his fingers still, voice going rougher, and the moment breaks. 'You going to stay still now?'

'Promise.'

Though he hesitates slightly, as if he's considering saying something more, Herc still retreats, giving her one last squeeze. The sheets shift as he lays back down and she knows now that he's listening just as keenly as she is. Still, his intervention works wonders, even if she doesn't have his physical reassurance anymore, and Chuck sticks to her word. Closing her eyes, she distracts herself by replaying the feel of his touch as reality inevitably merges back into dream...

She skims her fingers slowly up under the hem of his t-shirt, tracing over muscles she feels she's already memorised from stolen glances in the Drivesuit Room. There's the unevenness of a circuitry burn over part of his side, a reminder that only makes her kiss him harder.

'I love you.' Her heart aches with how much she means it, even if she can never show him outside of her own mind.

Pulling back he looks her straight in the eye, making sure he's got her full attention, serious. 'You mean everything to me.'

It shouldn't be so painful, hearing that, but as convincing as her imagination is it's not really him saying the words. And it never will be.

-

Because it's apparently such a major event in the Dome, and would seemingly distract everyone from their own work, the test run is scheduled first thing in the morning. Or maybe Bauer just wants to get through it nice and quick so he can see the back of her sooner, who knows?

'It's really not that different from normal.' Outside the Drivesuit Room Herc stops her, one last attempt to convince her that this isn't such a big thing. Yeah, just testing a hundred billion dollar Jaeger. In front of maybe the entire Shatterdome. That's _totally_ not different from the simulator.

She gives him an unconvinced nod, having ceased responding to his assurances with anything other than vaguely affirmative noises more than an hour ago. Soon enough they'll be sharing headspace anyway, until then she just needs to stay focused and not think too much.

For the first time in months suiting up feels awkward all over again, her entire body tensed as she tries to stop herself fidgeting too much. Probably the worst part is the fact that it's a team of new techs as far as Chuck's concerned, ones who haven't yet learnt not to look at her with judgment, like she's just some kid playing dress-up. More people who think this is a crazy idea, brilliant. That really makes her feel relaxed about this.

Still, she does like the new Drivesuit, it's a much better colour than the ones at the Academy, greyish green as opposed to the rather gaudy white. Just a tad bit more bulky too, designed for the field. Helmet's also an improvement, looking more futuristic and sleek than the more classical astronaut style that the Academy favours. While it's a futile effort she still feels the impulse to crane over her shoulder and check the fit.

Chuck can't help a bit of trepidation as they make the, admittedly short, walk to the Conn-Pod. The real Conn-Pod attached to an actual Jaeger. How the fuck did she manage this? She's getting goosebumps all over again, though fortunately nobody can see that thanks to the full-body coverage of the armour. Unlike the restless fidgeting, that's pretty damn obvious.

The seal swings open with a faint hiss of hydraulics and seconds later she's inside a working Jaeger. Their Jaeger. It's not completely different to the simulator, that much is true, as the basic layout of the control hub remains pretty much the same across the majority of the marks. A couple of notable exceptions aside. Still, each Conn-Pod reflects the overall design of the individual Jaeger, and there's no mistaking the Mark-5 for anything other than the latest advancement. It looks brand new and it is just as beautiful in here as it was out there.

Once it's all been set up – the rig set to test mode, both of them locked into the harness and the Conn-Pod sealed behind the last technician – Nico's voice finally sounds through the comm. 'All looking good this end; you reading me in there?'

Herc reaches up and hits the switch without a thought, as if he's done this in here a hundred times before. 'Loud and clear, LOCCENT.'

'Righto, we'll get started in a sec, just waiting on our own little ray of sunshi- Commander on deck.' His voice audibly jumps to attention, as telltale a sign as any that a certain somebody has just walked into hearing range.

'Pilots ready?' Bauer's tone is cool and clipped, formal without the slightest hint of any other, more negative emotions. His hands must be tied, if they're recording this he wouldn't want to be making his disapproval overly clear. So instead they're all going to play this by the book, seems fair enough.

They share a glance before Herc replies, equally professional; 'Yes, sir.'

'Alright, Mark-5 test run commences in one minute, prepare for neural handshake.' It's like he's reading lines off a script, for all the emotion the Commander is putting into it.

But right now Chuck can't be thinking about how much she dislikes the man running things, not if she's going to prove him wrong. Closing her eyes, doing her best to push everything else out of her mind, she counts the seconds and waits for it to hit. This is no different than any other Drift, all she has to do is just relax and follow his lead, like always. Simple.

'Two... One...'

The Drift itself isn't nearly as disorientating as it once was, they've done this more than enough times now. Instead it's familiar, comforting and feels like home. A barrage of memories flash past but it's easy enough to ignore, to let it flow over her like waves on a beach. Nothing they need to worry about, not today. It feels just like normal, up to a point.

In the simulator it's an isolated thing, the neural handshake, where it's just the two of them in a restrained space. There's limitations to the virtual landscape, no matter how high-tech it is, and it's still clearly just the rig that's moving with you. But in the Jaeger? As if a switch has been flipped, suddenly she can _feel_ it, senses expanding as the machine comes alive with them.

It's intoxicating, and all they've done is turn it on.

 _Still nervous?_ He gives her a light prod through the connection, his own elation clear.

She laughs, more than a little giddy, not sure if it's out loud or just in their headspace and not caring. Nervous? How could she possibly feel nervous when she's part of _this?_ No, if Bauer wants her gone he's going to have to rip her cold, dead body out of this Conn-Pod himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not the best words to use there, Chuck. But still, that's one night of sleeping in the same room down at least. Shame nothing ever seems to be smooth sailing for long around here.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for stopping by, awesome readers.


	19. Disapproval

'I just don't believe you're thinking this through.' Bauer's expression is fixed in an unimpressed scowl, not having wavered even slightly since he came marching on into the Drivesuit Room. As if they hadn't just pulled off a perfectly smooth test run. 

The Commander had barely even glanced at her on arrival and is now solely focused on doing his damnedest to stare her dad down. It's not working, not even slightly, being met with an equally dark look of his own. Herc is stubborn, she should know, and it's perfectly clear that he has no intention of backing down on this. Even without the ghost of the connection that's still lingering in the air between the two of them.

'I've thought it through plenty.' He crosses his arms, body language only getting progressively more confrontational. 'It's been weeks since we started Drifting, and in case you missed it, that was a strong neural handshake. The only problem here seems to be yours.'

'Simulators and test runs are one thing, taking her out into active combat is something else entirely.' There's a distinct twitching in the muscles of Bauer's face, his thinly veiled anger trying to make itself known. While he clearly knows he can't overrule the Marshal's decision directly the man seems to be pinning his hopes on convincing her co-pilot to change his mind instead. 

Which isn't exactly a great plan.

Herc narrows his eyes dangerously, patience rapidly wearing thin. 'You think I don't know that? You really think I'd take her out there if I didn't know she could handle it?'

'Maybe, maybe not; that remains to be seen.' Bauer says it as if _he's_ the one with experience actually fighting Kaiju. 'But that doesn't change the fact that sending a fifteen-year-old girl out in a Jaeger is not going to go over well.'

And it inevitably comes back to that same old age card again. Though Chuck's been doing her best to bite her tongue and avoid riling the situation up any further, because the two of them are getting plenty annoyed enough as it is, she can't let that pass. 'Sixteen next week, you know.' _And standing right here, thanks._

Waving that away, as if the correction had come out of thin air, the Commander carries on undeterred. 'Limits exist for a reason.'

'Yeah, to be broken.' It's probably a good thing that nobody acknowledges her muttered comment really. She wouldn't put it past the wanker to try and get her out of here on an insubordination charge, not if he runs out of other options.

Fortunately for her, Bauer's already too busy building steam on his latest argument. 'Don't be naïve, Hansen. Mark my words, when this gets out it'll make that court martial look like nothing. Are you really ready for what's going to be said about this, about you, about _her?_ '

He plays it like an ace and she guesses it is one really, switching his angle of attack like that. Catering to Herc's apparent weakness. That doesn't make it any less of a low blow, though, the mere mention of the court martial having instantly turned the atmosphere icy. That's a bad mistake, otherwise she thinks Bauer might have really had him there.

Taking a deep breath, Herc keeps his voice level, just. 'People can say whatever the hell they want, that doesn't make any difference. She is easily the best person for this job and you damn well know it. Give it one live drop, no-one will be able to argue after that.'

It's clear that the Commander remains unconvinced, still glaring like they've done something to personally offend him. But it's equally obvious that he's getting nowhere himself, and it's not like he can fight the empirical evidence. She'd got it right first time, and their neural handshake is just as strong as ever, if not more so. On that alone there's no case for him to contest their partnership.

'Well then, on your head be it. If you ever feel like coming to your senses, do let me know.' Accepting that it's a lost cause, for now, Bauer shoots one last dismissive look in her direction and stalks out, thunderclouds almost visible in his wake.

Chuck watches him go with an uneasy sense of loathing. Fuck's sake, what more does the guy _want?_ Other than for her to just hurry up and go away, that is, because he's making that one pretty damn obvious.

Okay, so maybe he has a bit of a point about the whole 'nobody trusts a teenage girl with a hundred billion dollar weapon' thing. Hell, case in point. If the Shatterdome's Commander doesn't like the idea then that doesn't exactly bode well for, oh, about _everybody else_. But even so, she's with him, and only an idiot would think that her dad wasn't the best choice for the Mark-5 by far. Surely that should at least cancel out the bulk of the objections?

On the bright side, Herc still looks decidedly disgruntled, not bothering to hide his disdain for the opinion of their superior. She can feel it too, overlapping with her own sense of frustration. It'll take a lot more than that to change his mind, if anything. Honestly, this sort of shit's only going to make him dig his heels in more.

_The absolute nerve..._

The ghost of the Drift still buzzes between them, the hangover's definitely been getting longer the more they do it. Which totally doesn't make her worry about how much that increases the chances of something incriminating getting through. Because _that_ would be a sure-fire way to make him change his mind, far better than anything Bauer can come up with.

It's not anywhere near as disorientating as that first time, something tells her nothing ever will be, but she can still almost feel the Jaeger. Like a phantom extension of herself. That'll wear off fast enough, of course, and then she'll just have to get back into that Conn-Pod to feel it again. Already Chuck can't wait to give it a real test, actually take the Mark-5 out and see just how fast it really is. Presumptuous maybe, but it does feel like it was made for her. For them.

'Too right.' He mutters fiercely in agreement, finally turning away from the now-closed door. 'Damn idiot doesn't know what he's talking about.'

That's true, but still... It might not have been the effect Bauer was going for, yet she really hadn't thought about it until now; what might come _his_ way once this gets out there. Chuck's always known that she's probably going to catch flak, of course, and is already kind of used to it, as much as it annoys her. People have kicked up fuss about pilots before, over the first seventeen-year-old in the field and the PPDC's one trans Ranger, it's inevitable. But she really does not like the idea of people going for him, not after everything he's done, that'd just be wrong.

Mulling it over, Chuck rubs at her arms in a vague attempt to get rid of the prickly feeling, glaring at the floor. She still has no idea why her body has to go and react this way every time they Drift, it's just how it is. Bauer would definitely take it as another sign that she's weak and useless and totally not ready if he were still here, though.

Right on cue an arm slips around her shoulders, tugging her closer, and really, here? Normally Herc waits until they're somewhere less public before indulging in this, simply pulling her off to his room at the first opportunity. Which is very much for the best given how long it usually takes her to get over the urge, finding it hard to let go once she's latched on. Because damn, she loves this, being able to press herself right up against him without having to worry. All the techs are long gone anyway, having been summarily banished when the Commander had walked into the room. So it's not the _most_ embarrassing place to give in, and any objections die off pretty much instantly. Right now her overly touch-starved senses overrule restraint, making her growl at herself as she shamelessly cuddles closer. _Stupid Drift hangover._

'It's not stupid.' He certainly always seems to appreciate how ridiculously clingy and open these moments make her, which she tries not to read too much into.

'Kinda is.' Chuck grumbles, desperately trying not to think about how goddamn good he feels just in case he can still pick up on it. Platonic. This is completely platonic.

That's hard to remember when he's cradling her like this, though, one hand stroking the back of her neck in just the right way. She guesses her weakness must be rubbing off on him. Hell, he's all but nuzzling her, voice low as he breathes in her ear. 'You did good.'

This close he can probably feel the shiver that sends down her spine. And it's only half to do with how much that tone of voice turns her on. She knows what he's doing, can see right through it, yet it's a lot harder to question when she can still feel his sincerity.

But that doesn't stop her shaking her head, burying her face in his shoulder to try and hide. Her shields are down and it's making her too honest. 'Not good enough.'

In response he only squeezes her tighter, disagreement obvious. 'Sh, don't let it get to you.'

'But-'

'You're meant to be in that Conn-Pod with me, sweetheart.' There's no trace of doubt in Herc's voice, none of the Commander's objections have stuck and it's clear none of hers are going to work either. His unwavering conviction pushes away at the doubts creeping back into her thoughts, for now at least. 'Anyone with half a brain could see that.'

What about a broken brain, though? A shameful, twisted, fucked-up one? Twisting her hands tighter into his jacket, she breathes deep and tries to will the sting out of her eyes. She doesn't deserve him; that's a certainty she doubts any amount of this will ever be able to banish. But maybe... maybe when there's a dead Kaiju with their name on it. Maybe then.

-

Fortunately the general consensus seems to be at least a bit more positive. She's not sure how well she could have taken the entire Shatterdome objecting to her. Or how Herc would have for that matter. His commitment certainly hasn't wavered, she's honestly getting the sense that he would quite happily fight anyone and everyone in order to keep this partnership alive. Even her. Still, her dad doesn't seem to doubt the fact that the bulk of the problem lies with their CO, at least for the time being anyway. He's so confident of it that he resolutely refuses to let her bunker down in their room, insisting that she needs to come see more of the Dome.

Devious bastard knows exactly how to convince her too. Totally taking advantage of the fact that she still hasn't gotten her closer look at the other Jaegers yet. That and Chuck really struggles to say no to him when he's giving her one of those looks. Shit, she's hopeless.

This time there seems to be even more activity out on the hangar floor, the day shift in full swing now that there's no test run to distract everyone. It's pretty easy for people on the outside to forget just how much work goes into keeping the place primed for the first sign of the next Kaiju. They can't afford complacence, although Jack always likes to say that it's because the higher ups just like to keep everybody busy.

In the end, after all that, they don't actually end up going any further than Horizon's bay. Tucked out of the way at one side of the bay is what appears to be a repurposed shipping container, some manner of compartmentalised storage space as far as she can tell. More importantly, gathered just in front of that are the other Rangers, who have set themselves up around a somewhat cheap-looking card table and are perched on an assortment of makeshift chairs. The five of them are engrossed in an intense and apparently silent game, an untidy pile of cards spreading across the table and rapidly growing.

Kit Lee is the first to look up, waving and nearly displaying her hand to the room at large in the process. 'Point of order. Ah, there you two are, finally! We were starting to worry that the Commander had done something silly.'

Instinctively they glance at each other. That's certainly one way of putting it, although it does rather understate the level of hostility with which he'd approached the matter. She's not looking forward to the next time they have to cross paths, as they inevitably will, because that man really does test her ability to stay cool.

'No, he just wanted to make his opinion absolutely clear.' And it's still pretty obvious what Herc thinks of that opinion.

Lucas pulls a sympathetic face while Kaia scoffs; 'Just once I'd like to see that sourpuss react positively to something.'

Horizon Brave's pilots nod their heads in unison, making it a clean sweep of Rangers who aren't overly impressed with the Sydney Commander. The guy must be seriously good at his actual job to still be in it given his general lack of fans. That said, his adamance that he knows what makes a pilot better than the ones with actual experience in a Jaeger does somewhat undermine his credibility.

'Don't worry about it, it's safe to say that you've already convinced everyone that matters.' Still far too demonstrative with her hand for her own good, Kit seems to be forgetting the fact that she at least isn't even an official part of the PPDC anymore.

' _Anyway_ ,' Kaia clears her throat, obviously keen to get back to the game at hand, and gestures to the table. 'That'll be seven cards each.'

'Is that really-' Lucas begins to object, only to be cut off by his co-pilot's severe look.

'There are no bystanders in Mao.' She pulls a card from the top of the stack before giving the space next to her a deceptively casual pat. 'Come on then, have a seat.'

Mao, huh? Not only is Chuck curious but this also taps right into her competitive streak, so it's a challenge she doesn't have to think twice about taking up. She supposes that's something of a common trait amongst Rangers, though, judging by the company. Herc doesn't object, pulling over another box to take a seat on the opposite side of the table. Was this the real idea in coming down here, she wonders.

'Now, I don't know if you've played before, but the only rule you can be told is this one.' The Kiwi solemnly passes her a hand of cards, before pointing a warning finger across the table. 'And no helping either.'

'You do take this too seriously.' Xichi Po sighs, she always had seemed like the more forthcoming of Horizon's pilots. Which admittedly isn't saying all that much.

'Well that's just hypocritical.' Kaia pulls an offended pout. 'Now, play was with Lucas, point taken.'

As luck, or possibly design, would have it the order of play means that Chuck gets to watch pretty much everyone else go before she has to. It gives her a decent opportunity to pick up the basic format, playing a card of the same value or suit as the last in order to try and clear your hand. Simple enough stuff. Of course, there's got to be more to it than that to justify this secrecy element, other than maybe the eccentricity of Vulcan's lead pilot. Even so, play moves pretty quickly and, to her annoyance, it's not all that long before she gets caught out by the mystery rules.

'Sorry, wrong turn.'

 _Right_ , she shoots a sideways glare at Lucas and picks the penalty card up without a word. Chuck is not the best loser in the world at the best of times. So, looks like eights reverse the direction of play, that's good to know.

Unsurprisingly almost everyone at the table turns out to be seriously competitive, and though it's good natured enough at this stage she gets the feeling that it could easily turn much more cut-throat. Someone is probably keeping a running score, if this is such a regular occurrence as she suspects it is. But at least there's no expectation for them to talk, hell, they get actively penalised for it. Kaia turns out to be an absolute stickler for the rules, unspoken though they may be, who would've thought it?

In the end it's Xichi who wins the round, though, stealing victory out from under her unamused cousin by jumping in ahead of his turn to throw in her last card, a three of hearts, on top of the one Herc had just played.

'Unsportsmanlike.' Lo Hin mutters darkly.

'You know the rules, anyone can play an identical card.'

Of course, that instantly triggers a sudden and intense debate over whether this infraction of the no-speaking-the-rules-rule should mean that she forfeits the win, gets a penalty card in the next round or doesn't incur a penalty at all because play had technically finished. It's impressive how heated things quickly become, descending into a mix of Cantonese and English as the dispute deepens and draws more of the table in. Chuck watches it unfold with a sort of amused bemusement, having to hide a bit of a smirk after she catches Herc rolling his eyes at the whole thing. She could get used to this. At least none of them seems to have any problems with accepting her.

That assessment is put slightly to the test when she wins the second round on a bit of a fluke, though. But for all their competitiveness the other Rangers don't begrudge her it for too long, even if they do seem to consciously step up their games afterwards. No more taking it easy. Honestly, it's a bit of a weird grab-bag of a game for all she can tell, but that doesn't mean she doesn't like it. On the contrary, she's always been pretty damn good at picking things up on the fly. And a challenge is a challenge. 

A few turns into their third round she notices that something seems to be drawing attention away from the game, which judging from the sporadic looks being thrown that way is somewhere behind her. She's about to give into curiosity and check for herself when Kaia saves her the trouble, by picking up a card and shouting; 'You'd better not be by-standing over there, Anders!'

'Not at all, ma'am! I'm simply loitering in this general vicinity for completely unrelated reasons.'

 _Jack;_ she'd know that twang anywhere. Sure enough when she spins round the technician is there, lounging against the wall a respectful distance from proceedings. Just about far enough to plausibly deny the accusation of by-standing. Grinning, he gives her a cheery wave, and it reminds her how much she's really missed the other teenager. He must have just come on break, although she can't entirely dismiss the possibility of him temporarily ditching his shift to wander on over.

While she doesn't return the wave, Chuck can't resist the contagious smile that's spreading over her face when she turns back to the game, just in time for Lucas to play an ace and skip her play anyway. The pleasure of finally seeing Jack again is almost enough to make her forget quite how annoyed she is with him for not stopping by sooner. Almost. It's not like the entire Dome didn't already know she was here, for crying out loud. 

The round carries on without further comment, although she can practically hear the curiosity of the other pilots as she pointedly focuses on the cards. Even so, that doesn't make her any less aware of the way Herc seems to have abruptly tensed up, the only one who is still shooting the occasional glance at the interloper. Then again, that's basically his line of sight, and he does come decisively last when Kit sweeps swiftly in with the win.

'Don't deal me in for this one.' Chuck's sliding to her feet and making a beeline for the non-by-stander before everyone else has even thrown down their cards.

Because he's just in one of those moods, and it _has_ been months, the technician bounds over to meet her halfway. Rather than going for the all-out tackle she's half-expecting Jack decides to be over-the-top in a different way, instead pulling her into a twirl. Fucking show-off. 'Hey, hot-shot, you made it!'

'Way to state the obvious, jackass.' Willing herself not to get embarrassed, she gives him a solid thump on the back, because as good as it is to see him enough is enough.

'Ah, don't be like that, or I might start to think all that new-found importance is going to your brain.' Though he puts her down Jack doesn't relinquish her just yet, stepping back to arms' length for an exaggerated once-over. 'Now, is it just me or have you grown?'

'Oh, fuck off.' Chuck shakes him off, retaliating with a light punch. Like always they slip right back into things as if it'd only been yesterday, although that rather begs the question; 'So, where the hell have you been hiding?'

At least he has the decency to look a little sheepish about that, offering an apologetic sort of shrug. 'Well, I felt like it might be taken the wrong way if I started stalking you _right_ away...'

'And lurking around like this was supposed to be better?' Sometimes she really does despair of the idiot.

'I guess when you put it that way...' Rather than dwelling on his slightly botched logic, though, the technician quickly moves the subject along, with such animation it's hard to resist. 'But _that's_ not important right now, not after earlier. So, Ranger, does the Mark-5 feel as good as it looks?'

' _Better_.' She doesn't care if it's green of her to light up about it the way she does; it's not like he's going to be one to judge and really she can't _not_ be enthusiastic about that Jaeger. 'It's fucking amazing, the way it comes alive, like everything's supercharged. On top of the Drift, best rush ever.'

'So it's not...' Deliberately avoiding eye contact, he makes a few vague and unhelpful gestures that she supposes are meant to convey the rest of the question.

Sighing, she takes her best stab at guessing what he's going for. 'Well, Bauer's not exactly thrilled about the whole thing.' 

'That snaky wanker? He couldn't be happy if it started pissing booze.' Jack snorts, as if the person they're talking about isn't the one in charge of the Dome they're standing in. 'No, I meant with...'

This time he jerks his head in an entirely unsubtle manner towards the card game, which doesn't seem to have progressed all that much since she'd left. In fact, at least a couple of the Rangers have clearly just hurriedly looked a different way. Really? That's how it's going to be? It's slightly less of a surprise that Herc's keeping an eye on her, though that doesn't stop her heart jumping the same way its does any time she seems to catch him staring. But this time there's something almost guarded in the way he's looking in their direction and he's quick to drop eye contact.

'Oh, with Dad?' Seems a bit of an odd question, it's not like she hasn't kept him up to date whenever they've been able to talk in the last few months. Especially odd seeing as until now it had been a subject Jack had preferred not to dwell on, for all his previous poking and concern.

Very aware that they're probably being eavesdropped on, even more so now he's gone and made it obvious what the subject is, she tries to pick her words carefully. This isn't the time to go getting gushy, tempting as it is. 'Good, we're good. It's... it's awesome.'

'Uh-huh.' He couldn't sound much less convinced if he tried, but brightens before she can call him on it. 'Anyway, great news; it turns out you and me going to be working together after all.'

That's not enough to make her forget about his tone, the deflection so blatant, but for the time being Chuck lets it slip. Now doesn't feel like the right time to start interrogating him, not when she's sure at least a couple of the other Rangers are sort of spying on them. 'Seriously?'

'Yep, I've been permanently reassigned to the Mark-5. Effective about a week ago.' Beaming, Jack wholeheartedly takes to this new subject, almost too much so. Though to be fair, it's still an exciting step up for him. 'Actually, that reminds me, have you had any thoughts about a name? Can't all keep calling it “the Mark-5” forever.'

'Oh, no, nothing yet. There's been too much other stuff going on.' That and she's probably going to have to wait until Bauer's done sulking. It feels like getting ahead of herself, naming their Jaeger is a pretty big deal, after all. She wonders if Herc's got any ideas already.

'Then hurry up and get thinking about it. I'm feeling dangerously unaffiliated, you know.' By way of demonstration, he waves a hand at his grey uniform and its rather decided lack of insignia.

Such priorities her friend has. But she nevertheless retorts with a smirk. 'Of course, wouldn't want you accidentally wandering back to work on Vulcan, would we?'

Whatever witty comeback he's planning never materialises, though, as a loud holler comes across the hangar; 'Oi, Anders, quit yakking!'

Looks like someone's finally missed him. Judging from the way he starts guiltily it was a case of sneaking off his shift after all. Some things never change.

'Alright, alright, hold your horses! No respect for reunions, these people...' Though he rolls his eyes Jack knows better than to hang around, jogging off towards where he's really supposed to be right about now. He gets about halfway across the bay before turning to call back; 'Level 8, room 4011. I'll catch you later, hot-stuff!'

Shit, he just _had_ to shout that, didn't he? Right in the middle of the hangar. In hearing range of the other Rangers. And her dad. Chuck feels her cheeks starting to burn, because seriously? They're going to be having definite words about this. Absolutely no nicknames anywhere anyone else can hear. It was fine in Perth, when it was only Max and maybe Jack's aunt around, but here? No. She's having enough of a job being taken seriously without him calling her stuff like that.

Hoping against hope that the blush is wearing off and trying to make herself as small as possible, she pointedly avoids eye contact as she returns to the table. Her best bet is to act like that was nothing, as if the technician hadn't just done a hopefully inadvertently thorough job of embarrassing her. Maybe then everyone else will ignore it. She might believe that if it weren't for the way the card game still hasn't moved on. At least Bauer is busy being moody off somewhere else, thank fuck for that.

'So...' Apparently nominated to speak for the rest of the group, Kaia sets about shuffling her back in and asks with a deceptively casual manner, 'Anders is a friend of yours?'

So much for her hopes of escaping scrutiny. It's not like this is really any of their business anyway, and if Chuck was in a worse mood she wouldn't waste any time explaining so. But she's not, fortunately, and the whole point is not to give anybody else extra reasons to object to her being here. Which is why she makes do with a slow shrug instead. 'You could say that.'

Nobody follows it up, despite her half-expecting to be pressed for more details, and just like that it's back to the silence of the game. Still, Chuck can't shake the sense that she's not escaping this particular spotlight any time soon. It's enough to make her a little paranoid, throwing her focus and putting her on tilt. Her one consolation is that Herc still seems to be equally off his game, sparing her the shame of coming completely last at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes friends really are just the most embarrassing things. Guess Chuck's just going to have to get used to it, although I think that particular nickname's going to need retiring sooner rather than later if Jack knows what's good for him.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, awesome readers.


	20. Fresh Air

It's still disorientating waking up so far up off the floor. Even after a week Chuck takes a minute to readjust, though unlike the first morning she doesn't go so far as swinging her legs over the side before she remembers. Not that she's got any plans to object to their current sleeping arrangement. Stretching slowly, she scrubs a hand over her eyes. The lights are off but her body clock tells her it's time to be up. Once adjusted for time zone difference the routine here in the Shatterdome is almost identical to that of the Academy so it's not been that much of a change. No Kaiju alarms, though, yet.

Pretty much on autopilot, she clambers down unaided, it's not that difficult even in the dark now that she's had some practice and she'd rather not bother him about it. Only once her feet hit the cold floor does she belatedly notice the distinct sense of absence, abruptly aware of the fact that she's alone in the room.

Though Chuck tries to tell herself otherwise, it stings. This is the first time that he's not been here. Well, yeah, six days doesn't exactly make for a permanent arrangement, but she'd kind of gotten used to him waiting for her. It shouldn't be a big deal, it's not like she _needs_ him to babysit her, just...

Today of all days?

Honestly, it's not like she expected, well, anything really. There _are_ far more important things to be focusing on, a posting to secure, the world to save, Kaiju to kill. All this day means is that people can stop giving her so much grief over being supposedly underaged. Yeah, no sixteen-year-old has fought on the front lines either, but it's not such a technically objectionable age. Hell, now she's technically old enough to-

Fuck it, she slaps a hand hard against the bed frame, who cares? Chuck definitely doesn't slam the bathroom door behind her, though it's not like there's anyone around to say otherwise. That's always been how she is, compensating for unhappiness with aggression. More than anything she's annoyed with herself for getting worked up, which in turn only makes her worse. Co-pilots don't need to spend all of their time together, and it's really not going to be helping her case, trailing after him like a love-sick puppy. How hard is it to just grow up and get over it?

It's just... Not knowing where he is gives her this sick feeling in her stomach, nerves knotting with the fear that maybe he won't come back. Oh, she knows it's irrational. Completely stupid. But there's a difference between knowing that and being able to totally believe it, and no amount of thinking or hitting things is going to make her feel better right now.

She can't deny that her mood sinks still further when a survey from the doorway of the mess equally comes up empty, in spite of her best efforts to suppress it. On the bright side, she can at least account for Winchester, who is talking to a couple of other techs on the far side of the room. That rules out one of the worst possibilities. Maybe Bauer got him or something? Whatever, he has other things to do. That's fine, that's normal.

No sooner has she resolved to stop thinking about it and turned to leave Jack comes out of nowhere and all but pounces on her, with a far-too-loud; 'Hot-shot! Congratulations, you're finally legal!'

'Keep it down!' Chuck has no problem throwing him off, a little annoyed that he still hasn't quite gotten the message about behaving in public. Even so, she knows it's a bit of a useless exercise; he's insisted on making a fuss about this every year they've known each other so far, probably to compensate for the fact that she doesn't.

True to form he bounces back instantly, confident and persistent to a fault. But rather than testing his luck by going for another hug he just slaps her on the back instead, grinning. 'Ah, don't worry, I'm sure everyone knows already.'

Oh, well _that_ doesn't make her feel worse, now does it? Not having the energy to keep up the front, and safe enough in the knowledge that he won't think any less of her, she lets herself deflate with a weary sigh. 'Seriously?'

'Well, you know, it's on file. And people had to work out what the new record was...' Jack shrugs, exuberance fading slightly as he frowns and takes a long moment to check the surrounding area. Intentionally or not, he promptly hits the nail right on the head. 'Say, not that I don't appreciate getting you to myself, but where's your old man gotten off to?'

'Don't ask me, Dad was gone when I woke up.' She shrugs, aiming for the sort of nonchalance that she figures the situation should call for.

Unfortunately the tech's known her too long to not see straight through that. Jack's face goes a little strange, muscles twitching in a telling way that definitely isn't positive, even though he's clearly trying to hide it. 'Really? Huh...'

Ever since she got here there've been these moments where her friend just suddenly goes all evasive and uncharacteristically serious. Whatever it is, Chuck doesn't like it one bit. _'What?'_

'Nothing!' He backpedals rapidly, hands waving in defence, not having expected such a heated reaction as he's getting. 'It's just that he never seems to let you out of his sight for more than five minutes, is all. I mean, I get that Drifting changes stuff but-'

Her expression sours further and he shuts up completely, realising that he's only digging himself deeper into the hole. If she didn't know better she'd think he was jealous or something, but it's more likely that he's just holding some sort of grudge on her behalf. How many times is she going to have to explain this to him? She's the one who messed up, there's nothing left to forgive.

Not in the mood to deal with this at the moment, Chuck shakes her head and steps around him. There's a punching bag in the gym with her name on it. 'Alright, well, some of us have places to be.'

'Nu-uh, I'm stealing you.' Jack seems awfully sure of that considering, promptly catching up with her and slinging an arm around her shoulders to emphasise the point. 'Obviously, it's tradition.'

She could shrug him off but she doesn't, it's difficult to stay annoyed with him for long when he just refuses to give up. 'Aren't you supposed to be working?'

'Well, yeah, but you can help. Just like old times, you know, except with a Jaeger instead of a car.' He's got her there, and he knows it. After four years it's a pretty well-proven technique for getting through the day, not to mention that it gives her an excuse to spend some more time with her Jaeger. And him, though it's still debatable quite how much of an upside that is.

-

Although the Mark-5 is long since finished and basically ready for launch, bureaucracy notwithstanding, there's still plenty of fine-tuning and regular maintenance to keep the techs busy. At first it almost gives her a sense of vertigo, working on the outside when she has such vivid memories of being in there, of this machine being part of her. But it passes, as she gets stuck in and focuses on adjusting the hydraulics in the left foot. At points it seems like she's completely muscled Jack out of his job, though the technician's happy to sit back and let her get on with the work instead. He knows she can't fuck it up that much, and even if she did, it'd be her own funeral, wouldn't it?

Lounging against the Jaeger like it isn't a billion dollar machine, he passes her a wrench. 'Shame I have to break tradition and not offer you a drink as well, but we'd both get busted if I tried that.'

'Yeah,' she snorts, even though that sounds like a seriously good idea, 'really don't want to give Bauer any free excuses.'

'Wanker'll have to get over himself eventually.' If anything the tech seems determined to match the level of displeasure she feels towards their superior, his own dislike amplified on her behalf.

'Like maybe in ten years time.' He'll have to accept the Marshal's ultimate ruling, yes, but she doubts whether Bauer is the type to ever let go of his own deep-seated objections. Still, she can deal with him mostly ignoring her just so long as she gets this Jaeger.

Pretending to give it serious thought, Jack pauses for dramatic effect before he suggests; 'You could always drop something on him.'

'Don't tempt me.' Sometimes she forgets who's the bad influence around here.

Even when they lapse back into silence, or he recounts stuff as she listens, it does work. Time slides past almost without her noticing, putting her energy into something constructive and blocking everything else from her mind. Although working on the Mark-5 does make her wish they could have another go in it already. But the final approval's bogged down in test analysis and bureaucracy, even if she hopes that crossing off this one objection will have sped things up a little more. What's the point of having this beautiful machine if they're just going to hold up its deployment on a technicality?

Of course, that line of thought just irritates her all over again, so she breathes out and tries to concentrate on the here and now instead. Like the feel of the smooth metal under her hands, the distant calls and the hum of machinery, that... bark?

Sure she must be hearing things, Chuck turns just in time to see a streak of brown and white fur come barreling across the bay, one over-excited bulldog bodily tackling her almost to the floor. Clambering all over her, Max immediately sets about doing his best to lick her to death. She can't believe it, he's actually _here_ , and it looks like he's missed her just as much as she's missed him.

'Hey, calm down, you got me!' Laughing, she ruffles his fur and makes a somewhat futile attempt to get herself into a slightly less undignified position. How-?

Not in quite such a rush, Herc follows a few steps behind. And that answers that question, doesn't it? 'Thought you might be happy to see him.'

'That obvious, huh?' There's an unashamed grin on her face as she glances up at him, but who cares, because _Max_.

'It does seem to come up in the Drift a lot.'

So this is why he'd disappeared, damn. Being all stupid and perfect again, it's almost like he's _trying_ to make her fall more in love with him. Before she can stop to think better of it she's up and hugging him, really it's the only way she can adequately express just how much this means to her.

' _Thank you_.'

While the sudden clingy attack seems to take him a little by surprise Herc doesn't hesitate to reciprocate. It's a bit of a novelty, her doing this on the spur of the moment outside one of their post-Drift sessions. Judging by the way his arms tighten around her it's a change he approves of. 'Happy birthday, sweetheart.'

Now this is good, pretty much perfect really. Except... They're still in the middle of the bay here. This display'll do wonders for her reputation, and Bauer's assessment that she's just a little girl. Besides, if she holds on too long that could give the whole thing away, even if he doesn't exactly seem to be in a rush to pull away either. Pushing herself back a little more hastily than she probably should, _way to not look guilty_ , Chuck hopes that she's not blushing or anything as she looks around for the conspicuously absent bulldog.

Turns out he's already moved on to Jack, tail wagging as he revels in the extra attention. 'Hey, long time no see, buddy.'

No matter how much he enjoys finding another old friend Max forsakes him and bounds right back over as soon as he sees her looking. Canny dog. She forgives him for wandering, though, happily getting down on the floor to fuss over him a whole lot more. They have some serious time to make up for after all. She wonders how badly Gran had been waiting to give him up, and just how much grief the woman had given Herc. Probably safe to say it was a two-way exchange at least.

'I've missed you so much.' She tries not to get too emotional about it, but it's hard. Having him back finally, as well as the method of delivery is just a bit much. This has definitely rescued the day, no question about that.

'Looks like the feeling's mutual.' Though there's a bit of a hesitation to it - like he doesn't want to intrude on her moment - Herc crouches down, briefly scratching the dog's ears. 'The flight he was on got delayed.'

It's an explanation he doesn't really need to make. She was being pointlessly needy earlier, and it's not like he knows how worked up she'd gotten about his sudden absence. Thankfully. That's one more thing to try and keep out of the Drift in future. But seriously, he got Max here, nothing else really matters.

'Screwy public flights, hey?' Chuck shoots him a reassuring smile, before turning back to giving Max a tummy rub. 'No more of that for you from now on, I promise.'

'That can't have been easy to arrange.' Arms crossed, Jack's still observing from a safe distance; she thinks it might be the first direct thing he's ever said to her dad. 'How's Bauer like the idea?'

'He's got no problem with it.' Straightening, all but squaring up, Herc easily bats down the question.

Which can't be entirely truthful, the Commander doesn't strike her as the animal-loving sort. With his by the book military manner she'd expect him to object purely on principle. That and it's like admitting defeat on his hopes of seeing her off.

'Really, the wanker who probably kicks puppies for fun?' The technician snorts, awfully close to being combative in his derision. And although Chuck has her own doubts it's a different matter entirely coming from him.

Shooting a warning look at her problematic friend, she makes sure to get in with a retort before her dad can, not willing to let the pair of them escalate this any further. 'Well, I guess having a dog around is probably no worse than having to let me pilot.'

Her attempt to diffuse the atmosphere mostly works, by virtue of drawing their exasperation onto herself instead. It's a comment that goes down equally badly with both of them, there still apparently too much of a bitter edge in the way she says it. Clearly they have more common ground than they think. But still, come on, it's true.

'More fool him then, and you know it.' Jack waves his hand dismissively, and she's sure if it was still just the two of them here he wouldn't leave it at that. But, as it is, he keeps up the habit that's been fast forming and walks away instead. For now. 'Guess I'd better get back to work, anyway. Catch you later, hot-stuff.'

If she didn't know better she'd think that he'd said that deliberately, narrowing her eyes at his rapidly retreating back. The uniform's still blank, nothing as far as a name goes yet, they have to wait until it's all signed off before that. But then Max makes an attempt to climb into her lap and it's easy to let him distract her, always has been.

'You've never told me how you two know each other.' 

It's a bit out of left field and she takes a second to process it. Today is just full of firsts. 'He lived a couple streets over. His aunt runs a repair gig, we used to work on cars together.'

Chuck has the feeling that he wants to press further than that, but she's not going to volunteer any more on her own. Just to see how curious he really is. Besides, she doesn't feel like telling him the story of how they actually met in the first place, not today.

But Herc doesn't follow it up any further, satisfied for the time being or at least pretending to be. He tends to get less brooding once her friend's out of a certain range. Him being all parental like this is a double-edged sword, equal parts touching and annoying, as well as setting off those unhealthy thoughts again. They're just going to have to learn to live with each other, though, for her peace of mind if nothing else.

'So,' he hesitates, 'I was thinking, it might be an idea to take him out for some fresh air.'

Kind of pathetic what her heart does at that suggestion, because it totally isn't like that. But, the way he asks it, trying to make it casually offhanded even though she knows him well enough to see past that now. It's enough to make her paranoid sometimes, realising just how much more insight they've been developing into each other's mannerisms from Drifting. And after only two months too... If he could see into her mind now that would not go down well.

Honestly, she's not really given a thought to the idea of going out there. Too focused on the Dome, the Mark-5, and all that, the outside world just hasn't seemed as important. Though Chuck has a feeling that might be precisely the point behind his suggestion.

But yeah, going out, just the two of them. Well, three really. No offence to Jack but this is much more the way she wants to spend today. 'Sounds like a plan.'

-

They take his truck, which she recognises with a slight twist in her stomach. It even smells the same as it used to, albeit a little bit more doggy thanks to Max getting himself all over it already. The bulldog throws himself straight into her lap, adamantly refusing to let her get away from him. It's a little disturbing to realise how similar his clinginess is to how she gets with Herc. Shit, she needs to get that under control, doesn't she? That and everything else, but Chuck needs to start somewhere. Be an awful lot easier if he wasn't so damn happy to go along with it every time, though. Stupid, well-intentioned enabler.

Though Max won't let her attention wander all that far she still takes the opportunity to examine the city on the drive. It's been years and she feels it, even though some parts clearly haven't changed a bit. That's kind of jarring, she doesn't know why but she almost expects reminders of the Kaiju to still be everywhere. Sydney isn't like Perth, Scissure was _here_ , life shouldn't have carried on quite so normally. 

She still feels a little like she's trespassing, even with him sitting right there next to her, but then Max starts nosing at her again, keen to soak up even more apologetic petting. 'Did she say how he was?'

There's a slight hesitation before Herc answers, although that's kind of understandable given the whole driving thing. 'He spent a lot of time sleeping on your bed and staring at the door. But other than that it was fine.' 

Pulling the dog closer, she breathes a quiet; 'I'm sorry.'

But Max clearly doesn't hold a grudge, still looking up at her with adoration in his eyes, much to her silent relief. That said, as soon as the engine stops his priorities do seem to shift towards getting out again, belatedly remembering that he hasn't really stretched his legs properly in a while and ready for some air. Happy to comply, it's not like she's going to deny her dog anything, she opens the door and lets him out first.

Stepping out into the bright late morning sun and taking in her surroundings Chuck turns back to her dad, raising an eyebrow. The Botanical Gardens. 'Really?'

His response is a shrug, and yeah it's not like there's any other place obvious to walk a dog around here. But that doesn't stop it bringing up memories. In the summer, darting between strips of shade in the scorching heat in search of a cool patch of grass to press her head against. Mum had always said she'd be more comfortable in a skirt, something about air circulation, but even back then she wouldn't be caught dead in one of those. Cooler or not, skirts were more of a hindrance than a help anyway... That all feels so much longer ago, like another lifetime. Sometimes she wonders if she can even still claim to be the same person, that part of her feels so far removed from what she is now.

Even though it's the tail-end of winter it's a nice day, just the right sort of temperature for being out in, more like spring really. At his prompting she'd gotten changed before coming out, better to be in civvies rather than telegraphing the fact that they're Rangers. And it's nice to break out the shorts again, after all those months shivering in Alaska. Chuck tries not to be too self-conscious of the way her skin has definitely gone a shade paler than it used to be, it's not like he's going to look or care about that sort of thing.

Adjusting her cap, pulling it down just a tad more to be on the safe side, she wordlessly follows his lead.

For all his excitement Max doesn't go far, only bounding off when something catches his attention and then trotting straight back as soon as he's satisfied. He keeps checking she's still here too, not letting her out of his sight as if he's worried that she'll disappear again. And doesn't that just make her heart twist with guilt. Chuck knows she has a lot of making it up to do, but at least that gives her someone else to obsess over. She tries to pretend that she isn't stealing glances at her dad constantly, the two of them keeping subconsciously in step like co-pilots tend to.

But it's nice, being out here, with him. No matter where she goes in the Dome there's no getting away from the feeling of being watched, of having to prove herself. Much as she's gotten used to that sort of atmosphere it's still kind of hard to relax, when it feels like almost everyone's just waiting for the cracks to show. Out here the air is so clear, peaceful, with not the faintest sound of the ocean, almost like there's none of that going on. No expectations, no pressure, no second-guessing herself. Well, _less_ second-guessing anyway.

After a while they pass by the cafe and he suggests a drink, a little different from Jack's earlier offer but just as welcome. She tries not to agree too fast. No disrespect to the PPDC but all things considered their coffee has never been all that good. Particularly at the Academy. Sometimes she's not sure how she survived all those months on such weak stuff. Mostly because she hasn't had the opportunity for a while Chuck decides to go for something a bit sweeter than the basic black she's been living off. Fortunately, he doesn't comment, unlike some she could name, it's not like she can help it if she has slightly more girly taste.

The barista definitely recognises him, the first person out here she's noticed to pick up on quite who he is. Fortunately not a Fly, by any stretch of the imagination, the guy stays pretty professional and only gushes the tiniest bit. She merits barely any attention, which is just fine by her, it's not like she's even assigned yet. Though as they leave she gets the sense that there's a stare directed at her back. Wondering who the hell she could be, probably.

Rather than sticking around on one of the tables Herc leads the way to a more isolated bench, avoiding any extra attention for the time being. Currently content in the knowledge that she isn't going to disappear, Max wanders off a little more, nosing around the feet of a couple of trees and enjoying the smells. She can't imagine he had a particularly fun time on that four-hour flight, but he's here now. There doesn't seem to be a way to convey the sheer depth of her thanks to her dad, although he'll probably feel it the next time they Drift.

Making an appreciative noise as she gets her first sip of proper coffee, Chuck immediately ruins the moment by opening a less-than-pleasant line of conversation. 'So how hard was it, getting her to send him over?'

'Once we got past the... formalities she didn't take much convincing.' Quite what the nature of the words that'd passed between the two of them was he doesn't say, but there's an underlying tension in his expression that tells her all she really needs.

'Still annoyed I had to leave him with her in the first place, I guess.' _And still pissed at me for daring to enlist, no doubt._

He shakes his head, even though they both know that it's the truth. Though Chuck stopped entirely caring what her grandmother thought years ago that doesn't quite stop it hurting. It's not like she hadn't _tried_ , again and again, to make up for it. But Gran always was a lost cause and it wasn't her lack of affection that really made the teenager's heart ache at the end of the day. Now at least they can get on with ignoring each other for real, no more tiptoeing around her life and how much they both think she shouldn't still have it.

But Max barks as he chases after a bird, the sun is shining and she doesn't need to think like that anymore. This, life, is good and it's worth holding on to. Even if it doesn't feel like she's done enough to earn it yet.

Fixing her with a scrutinising look, Herc takes a moment to ask; 'This morning, you didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?'

Times like this are when it's hard to figure out how honest she needs to be, how much of the answer he's already picked up just from watching her. Should've said something about the weather in the first place rather than opening the door to this, stupid. 'Well, no, not really. I mean, it's not like it matters all that much...'

'Don't say that.' He shifts, turning to face her more fully and sliding his free hand onto her knee. Just to make sure he has her attention, entirely unaware of the electric effect of the touch. 'You matter, you always have.'

Picking at the rim of her cup, she avoids looking at him. Moments like this cut too close to the bone, and it doesn't help that it's the same sort of thing he tends to say in her dreams. In between the other, far less platonic stuff.

'Believe me, please. I may not be the best at showing it but nothing's more important to me than you are.'

Chuck's never been good at this, at feelings and emotion and that sort of crap. Easier to keep it in and try to deal with it alone than open up and talk. Post-Drift sessions aside she's still inclined to steer clear of this stuff, it's the start of a very slippery slope. Better to stay strong than remind him of how broken she still is.

'Same.' She mumbles it, even though it's not quite the same and she knows it. For his sake she can pretend.

His hand squeezes just a little, a tacit acknowledgement. 'I know this wasn't much, but-'

'Nah, this is perfect.' Honestly, she means it. Having Max back, spending time alone with him, no real fuss, what more could she ask for? Still, a little afraid of straying too deep into those waters, Chuck tilts her head back to soak up some more sun. 'Kind of forgot how nice it feels to be warm. I am _never_ going back to Alaska.'

That gets her a smile, breaking the tension and pushing them firmly out of that danger zone. 'It wasn't that bad.'

'You kidding?' She rises to the bait, keenly recalling that freezing chill even when they're sat in this warm sunshine. 'I practically lived in a jumper, and don't even get me started on that fucking wind!'

'Wind? The horror.' And when did they decide it was okay for him to start mocking her?

'Oi, I didn't see you walking around in shorts.' Because hell knows she'd remember that.

'Maybe not.' Taking a contemplative sip, he thinks for a moment before continuing, 'Guess I wasn't as hot as I thought.'

Hopefully he doesn't take anything from the way she chooses that moment to glance around for Max. But shit, he shouldn't be allowed to come out with that sort of thing. At least there's nobody else in earshot, though that just leaves her wondering how much she's reading into an innocent comment. He's only messing with her; she wishes he wouldn't.

'As if.' Murmuring it quickly, she whistles before he gets a chance to come back with anything, assuming he even heard.

Max is still just as full of beans as he'd been when they got here, it takes a lot to wear this dog out. On their runs he'd always kept up with her and she'd always gotten tired out first. Putting the conversation to one side, she crouches down to give him a cuddle. Although he indulges her it's still clear that right now all he wants to do is get moving again, bounding a few steps before looking back imploringly.

'All right, demanding sod.'

Fortunately she's a fast drinker, tossing her already finished cup into the nearby bin as Max slowly edges further off in search of fresh adventure. Draining his in one smooth motion, as she definitely doesn't stare, Herc gets up and follows without protest. They fall back into step and at times like this it's hard to argue that this isn't how things should be.

Especially when he puts his arm around her shoulders and gives her a quick squeeze. 'It's good to see you relax.'

 _Right back at you._ When she's with him everything is good, and really that's kind of terrifying if she stops to think about it. So Chuck doesn't, giving him a smile and trying to keep at least one eye on her wandering dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the family is back together at last. Surely the only way from here can be up, can't it?
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, awesome readers.


	21. Compromise

Unsurprisingly, Max is an instant hit in the Dome. Unlike her, he has no problems getting along with people, quite unfussy about where he gets attention from so long as he gets it. After a good few hours of close watch the bulldog seems to have concluded that it's safe to leave her unattended, wandering around the mess in the hopes of wheedling some extra scraps out of his gullible admirers.

Sitting back and watching as he progresses from table to table, Chuck's only a little miffed that he's moved on so quickly. After all, he's had a rough couple of months, it's only fair he makes up for it. Still, when Max manages to charm a ridiculously large chunk of meat off one of Horizon's burlier techs she can't help shaking her head; 'I'm going to have to stick him on a permanent diet, aren't I?'

'Quite possibly.’ More than anything Herc seems to be amused by it.

Admittedly, she's just as guilty of slipping him food as anybody, but he _is_ still her dog at the end of the day. And now that Max has discovered his power to summon extra she knows he's not going to be able to resist using it for evil. Well, for turning himself into a proper lump anyway. Maybe she should attach a note to his collar; _I don't care how much he pleads with you, do not feed_.

'Don't worry,' Winchester speaks up, jumping on the chance to get into this latest line of conversation, 'their hearts will start to harden once the novelty wears off.’

Her dad’s all too happy to indulge the interloper, not put out in the slightest. Though why should he be? 'Think it's too late for that, he's already wormed his way in.'

The same could be said for certain other somebodies. Glancing back across the table briefly, Chuck observes that yeah, there's smiling going on again. Winchester has already become something of a regular fixture around here, more so than being the Mark-5's head tech should probably entail. Honestly, she's trying not to dislike the woman, she really is. It's just that Winchester doesn't make it easy, alternately treating her as an afterthought, being condescendingly friendly, or just forgetting about her presence entirely. Doesn't help that it seems increasingly certain that it's more than just feelings of friendship on that side of things.

If she was at all right in the head that wouldn't be a problem. Well, not _so_ much of a problem anyway. Even if it _is_ mutual – which she tells herself it isn’t, hoping that’s not delusional – she should be able to respect that. Whatever makes him happy should make her happy by extension, shouldn't it? Except she's twisted up and selfish, and he keeps on inadvertently giving her ideas.

There's got to be some way to make herself get over this. One that doesn't involve some seriously drastic action. Problem is she keeps on letting him distract her, reading into everything and giving herself this insane hope. As if he could really feel that for her. Honestly, what does she expect? She's an idiot, why can't she be happy with what she's got? Why does she have to _want_ him like this?

Of course, rather than leaving her to her own thoughts, Winchester decides to try making conversation again. It’s as if she's trying to get the daughter on side for entirely dishonourable reasons. But that could just be the paranoia talking.

'Say, how old is the little guy, anyway?'

Neutral enough question, easy, nothing to get annoyed about. 

'Four and a bit.' Pushing the suspicion to one side, purely for his sake, she makes an effort at civility. Not enough to turn around, though, because right now Chuck is drawing the line at facing the conversation, just in case. She does have a valid excuse, after all.

'Ah, so you got him aft-' Winchester wisely cuts herself off, because if she was about to go where Chuck thinks she was they might have had a problem. Hurrying to fill up the ensuing silence, and distance herself from what she might have been about to say, the head tech rapidly switches subject; 'You know, I hear that the K-Science lot have been trying to brew beer in the lab again...'

Smart decision. That was potentially a whole can of worms they should definitely not be going near any time soon. At least this means she can return to safely tuning out their little tete a tete, pretending that she isn't trying to gauge Herc's every reaction. Fucking hopeless.

Seeming to sense that he's needed, Max trots over, tail wagging as he practically radiates satisfaction. She gets the feeling that he's going to like it here, even if there is a slight lack of daylight within the facility. It's almost impossible not to be cheered up by his presence, leaning down to give his fur a proper ruffle before getting to her feet and tossing a look across the table. Still occupied with each other, of course.

'See you later.'

She doesn't hang around for a response, doing the mature thing and leaving them to it in peace. It’s not like she hasn’t had plenty of time to monopolise him herself today, is it? Better to give him some space now. Fortunately, Max doesn't have any objection to giving up his new feeding ground, because food or no food she's still his favourite. That and he's probably full up for the time being.

Because that’s just her luck it’s as she's on her way out that Bauer happens to be breezing into the mess like a cold wind off the Pacific. His eyes don't narrow instinctively on seeing her this time, instead he pauses in his tracks as he takes a long, hard look at her company. _Here we go._ While she could still turn around and take a different exit without being too obvious Chuck doesn't feel like giving him the satisfaction. 

Before she gets the chance to walk straight past him, though, the Commander stops her with a particularly withering look. 'There appears to be a dog in my Shatterdome.'

She glances down at Max with exaggerated surprise before tilting her chin up and matching his glare with a defiant smirk. 'So there does.'

Bauer stares her down for several long moments, to the point where she's sure it's going to have attracted attention. Neither of them's the sort to back away, even if she should still probably be trying to play nice and get on his good side. Not that she thinks he has one of those, mind, just a less shitty side, possibly. It's not like his opinion of her can get all that much lower anyway.

There's a definite quietness spreading out around them, interest starting to really stir up as it becomes clear that there's a potential confrontation building. Obviously, she's not going to smack him one – not over this, that is – but their audience doesn't know that. Perhaps it should be a little worrying that she seems to have already developed a reputation like that around the Dome, but if it works to her advantage...

To her surprise Bauer blinks first, a lot quicker than she was expecting, shooting a critical glare at the nearest huddle of would-be spectators. So, the stubborn wanker still rates the need to stay professional in front of his subordinates above his desire to better her. Good to know.

Shaking his head, making no effort to disguise his disgruntlement, the Commander steps past her; 'Just keep it under control.'

'Yes, sir.' It's a good thing he's too busy marching off to check her expression, but at this stage it's really just the act of saying it that matters. So that she remembers her place and all that.

Admittedly she wasn't expecting him to let this slide so easily, though really it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth and question it. If she were being cynical, Chuck would probably guess that this is just Bauer knowing when to pick his battles. For once. Assuming he still thinks he can get his way and have her turfed out then Max becomes nothing more than a transitory issue. After all, it's clear he'd have much more of a mutiny on his hands if he even tried to oust the dog now, given how half the Dome is already endeared to him. And who can blame them? Max is a far easier sell than she is.

-

With that potential sticking point safely out of the way there's only one thing left that's stopping Max from settling in completely. For the second time in as many weeks, Chuck finds herself apprehensively assessing the bunk beds. Stupid fucking things, they're so much more trouble than they're worth. Even if she _had_ just about gotten used to having the top bunk.

An unhappy bulldog is practically sitting on her feet, looking up at her and whining. Of course it's now that he decides to get all clingy again. Yeah, she can understand, he's probably worried that if he doesn't go to sleep on top of her then she'll disappear again. Been there, done that. The thought makes her feel terrible again for making him this way so she crouches down to ruffle his fur, no closer to an actual solution than she was when she'd first realised their problem five minutes ago. 

Not seeing it as nearly so much of a dilemma, when Herc returns from the bathroom he doesn't hesitate to offer; 'We can swap.'

'No.' It's a knee-jerk response that comes out far too fast, but she stands by it. If she could just-

'You're not sleeping on the floor.' Following her thought pattern too closely, he's quick to shut that idea down. From the look on his face he’s not going to let her try it, and is quite willing to resort to physical intervention if she does.

Even so, that was easily the best alternative she's been able to come up with. If she can just convince Max that he's in no danger of being left behind again then she's sure he could adapt to the arrangement soon enough. Honestly, the floor's not _that_ bad. 'It'd just be for one night-'

'One night is too many.' He crosses his arms, refusing to budge, and it's moments like these that they're far too similar for their own good. 'I'm quite capable of sleeping on the top bunk.'

'We are _not_ swapping.'

That earns her a frustrated sigh, and maybe she shouldn't be fighting this so much but hey, it's still her birthday for a couple more hours. Surely that means she should be allowed to sleep on the floor if she wants to? Just... sleeping in his bed is too dangerous now. She doesn't trust her mind not to react, and seeing as they've managed to avoid the awkwardness of her more unsavoury dreams so far it's not something she wants to chance.

'Alright,' Herc backs off the suggestion even though he clearly doesn't think it's alright, 'how about sharing?'

Seriously? Chuck's just glad she has the excuse of paying attention to Max, allowing her to cover up the way _that_ idea makes her feel. If nothing else at least that tells her that he can't have _any_ clue about the shit that goes on in her head. Now she just needs to keep it that way. She dreads to think of how colossally she could fuck things up with that sort of temptation, as much as she would love to say yes.

Somehow finding the strength to produce sensible words, she shakes her head. 'Those bunks are nowhere near big enough to share.' _Not without having to be way too much in each other's space, anyway._

'Well, we're not staying up all night debating this. It's that or we swap.' As much finality as he puts into the ultimatum, it's undermined by the fact that he clearly _will_ stay up all night if he doesn't get a satisfactory resolution out of her.

She still thinks the floor is easily the safest option, but that's obviously not going to fly. And really, if trying that would provoke him into doing something more drastic than arguing it might turn out to be just as bad an idea as the others, if not worse. Stupid that she has to worry about this mess when it should be Max that she's prioritising here, instead of getting tied into knots by her own problem.

Actually, maybe there is a better solution. One that _doesn't_ involve tempting fate in any capacity. If Max would be reassured just from having company, rather than her per se... 

Scooping up the bulldog with a well-practiced motion, she promptly plops him onto Herc's lap. 'He can sleep with you.'

That's not quite the answer he was expecting, and she thinks it might not be the one he was hoping for either. Which is possibly why, rather than simply accepting the fact that it’s resolved, he balks. 'What?'

'You two can bond.' The more Chuck thinks about it the more she likes the idea; this way she doesn't have to worry about either of them. And gets to keep her sanity to boot.

While he doesn't seem to have any problems with having the dog, already giving him a pet, there's still a trace of something almost like disappointment in his voice; 'I think he'd rather be in with you.'

Probably true, and she does feel bad about it, but Max seems happy enough to cuddle up to him instead. Lucky sod. For both their sakes she needs to keep her guard up. 'Well, it's that or the floor.'

That’s not really a choice he can argue with, and he knows it. 'If that's what you want.'

Well, not exactly, but she can hardly admit that, now can she? This is good for everyone involved.

Under the guise of giving Max one last ruffle for the road, she leans in and presses a brief kiss against his cheek. 'Thank you.'

Before he can really react, or Chuck can do anything more stupid than that, she hurls herself into the relative safety of her own bunk. Shit, what was she thinking? Make it more obvious, why don’t you? At least now it’s pretty damn clear that anything else would have been a terrible idea, given how utterly appalling her self-control is starting to get around him. This time she can pretend it was innocent, but what about the next?

At least he doesn’t say anything about it. Much as she kind of wishes he would.

-

In the end, the new arrangement works out fine for everyone. After that first night, Max isn't so insistent on sleeping on the bed, though he still takes advantage of it more often than not. He seems to have decided that he rates Herc as his second favourite person, when he's not busy off seeking attention elsewhere that is. It's nice, and having her dog here makes it rather easier to distract herself from the fact that it's been far too long since they first tested the Mark-5. Chuck wants to be back in the Drift – for more than one reason – and it's not like she hasn't had enough waiting for one lifetime.

Now that she's got the excuse of needing to exercise Max she gets into the habit of doing laps around the Shatterdome, able to unwind at least a bit more with a good run. It's not like he doesn't get enough of a workout traipsing around after her – the facility is pretty damn big – but it's a good habit to keep up all the same. Makes her feel slightly less stir-crazy too.

Even if she does need to plan her routes carefully in order to avoid certain areas of the Shatterdome. But after almost literally bumping into Bauer a couple of times Chuck manages to figure out the places she needs to steer clear of, at least at certain times. The Commander is nothing if not predictable, which in this case makes her life that little bit easier. Can't seem to avoid drawing the odd look, though, some people are taking a lot longer to get over her presence than others. Still feels like there's talking going on behind her back too, but that's just something she has to learn to live with.

Mid-afternoon tends to be the best time, she's found, when the living areas are a little more dead. Today she's managed to go pretty much the whole run without seeing anyone, having only passed a couple of K-Science guys and a helpful LOCCENT officer who held a door for her. Taking advantage of the solitude, she lets loose and covers the last stretch of corridor at a sprint.

Sliding to a halt, she hits the door with a triumphant slap before Max has the chance to catch back up with her. 'Beat you, slowpoke.'

Not that he seems to care, or to even know there was a competition, bounding up the steps and simply lolling his tongue out at her. Nothing's ever really a victory against him, but that doesn't exactly matter.

Unlocking the door, Chuck lets the thirsty dog go in ahead of her. Light's off, so it's just the two of them for the time being. That's a bit of a relief, even though it's completely stupid she prefers Herc not to witness her post-run look. Worn out and sweaty, not exactly a great aesthetic. Really she shouldn’t be worrying about any of that, but still, she can't quite help being just a bit more image conscious these days. Not when there’s someone like Winchester around, who can spend hours crawling around inside maintenance ducts and somehow come out looking just as irritatingly presentable as ever.

Fuck, what is this _doing_ to her?

Getting Max some fresh water from the tap – half of which he seems to promptly slop onto the floor – she wastes no time going to shower. Although they've both gotten mostly used to this whole sharing thing she appreciates the opportunity to wash without having to worry about her dad being in the next room. Yeah, that does save her from temptation, but at the same time it's still a bit of a concern. Much as hot water would be good after the exercise these days she runs it as cold as she can stand, just to be on the safe side.

By unspoken agreement he always showers first in the mornings, but even so she tends to be in and out as fast as possible. Not now, though, she can relax and take her time. Just don't think about him and it's fine. Don’t think about how his voice always goes all husky last thing at night, or the way the circuitry suit just _hugs_ his body and leaves almost nothing to the imagination, or the feel of his hand brushing slowly down her back-

She is so unbelievably bad at this.

Tipping her head back into the water, she tries to pretend that it's washing away the thoughts along with everything else. Futile exercise, maybe, but if she keeps telling herself things like that then hopefully this won't end up coming up when it shouldn’t. Because if a moment like this came up in the Drift it’d be goodbye to the Mark-5, and to him.

More than a little disgusted with herself and her atrocious lack of restraint, Chuck sets about aggressively scrubbing herself dry. It won't be enough to stop her doing it all over again, of course, it doesn't matter what she tells herself to the contrary. She's so damn weak. Weak and sick.

Throughout the process of getting dressed she grimaces at herself periodically, the floodgates of mental criticism opened and eradicating any last traces of good feeling that shower had left her with. She’s nowhere near good enough for him, not even remotely, not like this. It's completely stupid to even dream. Reaching for her top, she finds nothing but empty air, typical. Somehow it's ended up on the floor and, as she picks it up, it's clear that an entire puddle's worth of water has already soaked into it. Great, that does wonders for her mood.

Sticking it somewhere safer to dry - though the floor's not even that wet any more thanks to the fucking shirt - she runs a hand through her damp hair and just breathes. No point getting annoyed, with any of it, there's more important things to be worrying about. With a sigh, Chuck goes in search of a replacement, Max at least is quite used to her walking around half-dressed. Thankfully-

No sooner does she start to think that there's the telltale screech of hinges moving, because today is just one of those days. Instinctively freezing, she hesitates a moment too long and is still stuck to the spot when Herc steps inside. He pauses, meeting her eyes briefly before taking in the full picture.

 _Shit_. Chuck can just feel the way her skin is flaring up in a furious blush. Damn redhead genes, they expressed so much better in him. Although she can't do anything about that particularly clear indicator of guilt through a determined act of will she forces her feet to work again. The longer she stands there like a rabbit in the headlights the worse it probably looks.

This is only a big deal if she makes it one, so she turns her back to him and sets about finding something to pull on with false calmness. He's seen her in less, that's for sure, and if she acts weird about it that's only going to raise questions. Be normal, for once.

Clearing his throat, definitely awkward, he provides a welcome distraction from the situation they've abruptly found themselves in. 'The Commander wants to see us.'

'Oh? Now?' Feeling a tiny bit bold, Chuck turns to look at him halfway through pulling the fresh top on, just to make it clear that she isn't at all embarrassed. Besides, his tone didn't exactly give away whether the announcement's supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. Not that his expression turns out to be any more informative, given that his gaze is still pointedly averted.

'That was the idea.’ While Herc seems to be aiming for casual it's obvious that he's still a bit ill at ease. Come on, it wasn't that bad. Was it?

'He say what it's about?' Endeavouring to focus on the more important matter at hand, she closes the locker, ready to go. It may not be possible for the man to overrule the Marshal's decision to put her in the Mark-5 but she can't help being wary.

‘Not to me, but he didn't seem overly happy.' Finally, he looks at her again, fleetingly, as he steps back and opens the door just a little too fast.

Snorting, Chuck walks ahead, keeping her steps slow but safe in the knowledge that he’ll catch her up fast enough. ‘When is he ever?'

Though he doesn’t argue with that they still end up stuck in a somewhat uneasy silence. That rather unfortunate moment hangs over them, and she’s not exactly bursting with optimism about dealing with the Commander either. Slowly but surely it starts to really psych her out, increasingly uncertain how much of it is in her head or not. By the time they get to Bauer’s office she’s turned herself into a right ball of nerves. Totally not the best way to go into a potential stand-off with the man, but it’s probably safe to say that he’s going to end up focusing primarily on her dad again like he usually does whenever there’s anything official to say.

True to form, Herc gestures her inside first, as if she’s going to try and slip out of this one. No, much as she doesn’t want to, whatever their CO has to say he’s going to have to say it to her face. Or at least in front of her, anyway.

Closing a file on the desk in front of him, Bauer looks up with his mouth set in a thin line. 'Right, sit down, let's get this over with.'

Such a cheery leader they have; it's a miracle the Shatterdome has as much morale as it does. Chuck still doesn't like having to sit down at times like these but complies nevertheless. Better for everybody if they make this as quick and painless as possible. Besides, it's not like she'd have a choice about it, so better to do it on her own steam than allow it to get embarrassing.

The Commander's office doesn't seem like the most fitting, what with the way his walls are decorated with abstract art. Bright primary colours that rather clash with the architecture, completely not the sort of thing she would have pegged him for. Honestly, she half expected the room to be empty save for the bare essentials. Either somebody else decorated the place and superglued those to the walls or Bauer might not be as strait-laced as he likes to appear.

Looking slowly from one of them to the other, contrary to his own words, he draws it out. Like he really doesn't want to get to the point of this particular meeting at all. When he finally does speak, though, there's no doubt who he's directing it to. 'You're still set on this?'

'Yes.' Herc doesn't elaborate, he doesn't need to. Still reassuring to hear it, especially given the effect on the Commander.

'Then I guess my hands are tied, aren't they?' Bauer sits back with a graceless sigh, still as visibly put out by her presence as ever.

Given his particularly sour mood this sounds awfully like he's admitting defeat. And there's only one thing that could mean... Although this could just as easily be him trying to fuck with her, it's the sort of dickish bait and switch she wouldn't put past the man.

Frowning, he takes his time over the words, picking carefully to presumably avoid coming out with something too disdainful or insulting. ‘Test results were all positive, the final authorisation just came through.’

One would think he was announcing the closure of the program, such is his enthusiasm. But that can’t stop the sense of relief that’s flooding through Chuck's system, or the growing grin that she can feel lighting up her face. _Finally_ , it took them frigging long enough. _Weeks_ just to decide that there weren’t any problems, though she can’t help wondering if they dragged their feet just a little more because of her.

Were it anyone else but Bauer she’d ask just how soon they can go again. Though, on second thought, right away would be a bit too soon given the increased risk of one of those earlier, incriminating thoughts cropping up again, fresh as they still are. That’s basically the only thing that can snatch this away from her now, after all, nobody else can even try anymore. 

Speaking for both of them, Herc is quick to ask; ‘Do we have a date yet?’

‘The fifth of September.’ Just under two weeks away, the PPDC has really switched gear now that they’ve managed to get over letting her do this.

For a moment it seems like Bauer’s going to stop there, but it’s been too long since his last dig at her for him to resist adding; ‘I expect you’ll both be ready by then?’

‘There’s no reason we shouldn’t be.’ His eyes narrow dangerously, like he’s daring the Commander to try it. ‘All you need is to get a feel for being out there, don’t you?’

Being suddenly included catches her just a little off guard, though that doesn’t change the certainty of her response. ‘Sure.’ 

It’s an exciting prospect, getting to properly stretch her legs in the Jaeger. Just how far could the Mark-5 keep up a run for, she wonders. Probably not something she’ll be allowed to test, and those missiles are likely to be off limits for the time being too. Not that she has any burning desire to test those. Chuck still maintains that shoulder-mounting would have been better, even if she does have to admit that the Jaeger looks perfect exactly the way it is. And now it’s officially _theirs_.

‘Well, much as I may disagree, for the sake of the program I’m just going to have to hope you prove me wrong.’

 _Arrogant, fucking-_ She’s about halfway to an equally bitter retort when a warning hand lands on her thigh, bringing her thought process screeching to a rather abrupt halt. Okay, fair point, maybe it’s better not to insult the Commander right now, but is this really the best way to deliver that message?

While he’s got her temporarily silenced, squeezing a little harder just to make sure, Herc manages to take a slightly more diplomatic approach. ‘We will.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, those damn bunk beds, causing trouble again...
> 
> Sorry for keeping you guys waiting on this one, unfortunately my laptop's gone slightly kaput and that put a bit of a spanner in things. Hopefully I'll be able to get it fixed up soon enough but in the meantime I may be somewhat slowed down by my main writing tool being out of commission.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for stopping by as always, wonderful readers.


	22. What's in a Name?

‘Now, the world's _tallest_ wave was recorded in Alaska in 1958. That one clocked in at a hundred feet, which would be... about mid-thigh high on the Mark-5.'

She really hopes that the LOCCENT Controller isn’t always this talkative – seems like it’d be a bit of an issue if he was like this in the middle of an actual drop.

 _He’s not_. The confirmation flows straight through the Drift, tinged with the echo of more than a couple of memories. Chuck resists the impulse to follow it further, that’s still something she has to consciously restrain herself from doing every now and then. There's a lot more stimulus to juggle inside an actual Jaeger, with even more opportunities for distraction. A very chatty LOCCENT operative, for example, who it turns out has a slightly unhealthy interest in natural disasters.

‘Which probably wouldn't be enough to knock you over, so long as you were properly braced. Besides, it's not like we've had a Kaiju generate a tsunami anywhere near that high yet...’

Starting to get more than a little tired of the stream of rather morbid commentary, Herc flips the switch to cut him off; ‘We get the idea, LOCCENT.’

‘Hmm, the fact that you’re saying that suggests that you really don’t, Mark-5.’ Nico seems determined to treat this like just another day at the office, or more casually even than that; she likes to think of it as a vote of confidence rather than putting it down to simple boredom.

After all, so far they've done nothing more than walk the Jaeger along the coastline. That's the whole purpose of the exercise, getting her used to manoeuvring outside, but Chuck appreciates that it probably doesn't make for the most exciting viewing. For her at least it's still plenty exhilarating, being back in the Conn-Pod and getting to actually leave the hangar. This is what she's been craving and it's just as much of a rush the second time around.

Even so, it'd taken a bit of adjusting to, in the hangar she hadn't really had a proper chance to get her head around the sensors. Wasn't all that much to look at in there, the additional input a lot more limited. Out here, though? Suddenly being able to view the distance in clear detail had been seriously disorientating, almost like learning to see the world again for the first time. This more than anything reminds her why a Jaeger's too much for one person to handle, she can't imagine being able to process all that and still have any brain power left to actually do anything.

But, she's got to admit, that after fifteen-odd minutes of moving along at a slow walk she's starting to itch for something more. Chuck can _feel_ the unharnessed potential of the Mark-5 just begging to be unleashed. If she was going to lose her balance and keel over she would have done it by now, wouldn’t she?

Glancing across at Herc, she knows that he's just as ready to move things up a gear. _We're meant to be testing this, right?_

 _Don't get ahead of yourself._ He looks back at her without missing a step, and seriously, if they can keep walking forward without having to particularly concentrate then really that should be proof enough.

Letting out an annoyed huff, Chuck makes it clear _exactly_ what she thinks of that. If nothing else the Drift is a very efficient way of getting a message across, and keeping the conversation just between them. _Come on, Dad, you know you want to._

She knows he isn't any more fond of sticking to baby steps than she is, and he damn well knows that she's ready to do more. Honestly, Bauer isn't even bothering to oversee them today, if that's not permission to set their own pace then she doesn't know what is.

 _That's not the point._

Which is a weak ass argument. At the end of the day, he can't argue with the fact that there's a lot more to active duty than walking around slowly. Even if there is admittedly plenty of that too that's not really relevant right about now. The sooner she gets a proper feel for the Mark-5 the better, seeing as it's less than a fortnight until they're on active duty. Besides, it's such a shame to be in such an impressive machine and to not even try pushing it a little.

Much as he makes a show of resistant, though, he's going to give in. Chuck can feel it long before he shakes his head and actively admits defeat. There's plenty of times where he's just as weak to her as she is to him. 

Still, Herc feels the need to run it by LOCCENT first, for the sake of protocol just as much as anything. 'All right, think we're ready to start putting her through her paces now.'

'Well, everything's looking good on this end so you’re probably a better judge of that than me.' The volume of Nico's voice changes as he talks, likely due to him sliding himself around to check on the various feeds running in from the Jaeger. Quite a lot to keep on top of, regardless of his more blasé nature. 'That and I'm running out of stuff for you not to listen to anyway.' 

If nothing else at least he's self-aware. Besides, she can forgive him being a tad annoying for the fact that he doesn’t even try to object or suggest she isn’t up to it. While Bauer wouldn't have kept up a running commentary he certainly would have had _something_ to say about this, and it is so much better without him around to sour the mood.

It's a beautiful spring day out here, clear blue skies, calm ocean, perfect for a run. Thanks to the keenly tuned sensors of the Jaeger she can see for miles and it's impossible not to wonder just how fast she could get to the horizon in this. In spite of the PPDC's desire to keep the Mark-5 as under wraps as possible until the official launch they hadn't been secretive enough to make them take it out at night. Nobody would've trusted her that far after all, and she's glad. Wouldn't have been as impressive, probably a greater strain on the brain what with having to adapt to night vision, and still would've been pretty bleeding obvious to boot.

Fixing her eyes on the horizon, Chuck mentally does the math. So long as they keep a straight line they shouldn’t have to worry about straying into deeper waters, which is better for the sake of speed anyway. _Let's just hope you can keep up._

_And that you can keep upright._

Now those are real fighting words. Of course, the very nature of the Jaeger means that this can't dissolve into a straight competition. But that doesn't mean she can't push as hard as she can. After all, nobody's had a chance to find out exactly what the top speed of this beauty is. Yet.

One, two steps is all it takes as the Jaeger seamlessly switches gears in response, really seeming to come alive. At first the rig resists, dragging on her strides, but the speed builds so fast that she soon stops noticing it. It doesn't feel like she's having to drive forward more than one and a half thousand tonnes of machinery, the Mark-5 amplifying every pace with ease, kicking up some serious waves in its wake too.

Staying upright, ha. Chuck could go for hours like this without batting an eye. To Herc’s credit, he's perfectly capable of keeping up, not that she doubted him. She wonders how far LOCCENT will let them go before making a fuss, she has half a mind to find out. And right now he doesn't have any intention of stopping her.

They make it as far as the next headland, a good couple of kilometres, before the comms sound. Buzzkill. 'I hate to break it to you but you're not going to get away with running off in that thing.'

Even though she duly slows to a stop the endorphins pumping through her system make her laugh at that. It's the first time she's ever found something the Controller said funny and it probably wasn't even a joke. But she just feels so good right now, so _alive_.

From the feel of it Herc's pretty pleased with that run too, maybe not quite as giddy as she is but this isn't as new for him, is it? The Drift practically glows, and Chuck never wants to get out of this Conn-Pod.

Even so, there's still an important question that pushes its way to the front of her mind. She ignores the fact that it comes out a bit breathily; 'What speed did we hit?'

'Jeez, you really are a keen one, aren't you?' Nico doesn't sound too put out, though, even if she did give him the wrong reaction. 'Tell you what, turn that Jaeger right around and I'll check.'

 _That was fast._ A lot faster than Lucky; the sense of the comparison is clear in Herc's thoughts. _Must have hit at least two hundred._

She'd damn well hope their Mark-5 was better than a Mark-1. Not for the first time, she wonders what exactly had become of the wrecked Jaeger, but she steps back from that thought sharpish for fear of stirring anything up. They don't talk about his old Jaeger, it's only come up in memories once or twice to the point where she's sure he's actively trying to keep it out. In all fairness, there's a lot of stuff they never mention, it works both ways and really it's for the best to avoid some of that stuff, at least in the Drift.

After a few, rather slower, steps back in the direction of the Dome, Nico makes good on his word, sliding back up to the microphone with a whistle. 'Two hundred and forty-one kilometres per hour, not bad, not bad at all.'

'Thanks, LOCCENT.' Herc says it mainly to forestall any further commentary, before the operator decides to launch into a detailed explanation of all the tornadoes they wouldn't be fast enough to outrun or something. Shooting a look in her direction he raises an eyebrow. _There, didn't hold you back too much, did I?_

Chuck tilts her head back at him, feigning consideration. _I don't know, I probably could've broken three hundred on my own._

Though he gives her a bit of a shove through the Drift it's light-hearted, they both know full well that she doesn't mean it like that. _Watch it, cheeky._

_Oh yeah? What're you going to do about it?_

Almost instantly she regrets putting that out there, even more so when he doesn't come back with anything. Went a little too far over the line and now she's made it kind of awkward. It reminds her of just why Drifting is kind of a hazardous thing to do, because she has to very quickly focus her mind on something safe while trying not to seem too obvious about it.

But that doesn't mean she can ignore him, not with the way their minds are still tangled up with each other. And because he doesn't say it out loud she can't tell herself that she hears it wrong when he finally does give his thought on the matter. _I'm sure I could think of something._

Okay, silence was better, safer. Decidedly _not_ thinking of anything along those lines she consciously forces herself to concentrate on just the here and now. No more conversation and certainly no more cheek. Maybe if she just counts steps until they're back in the Shatterdome she'll be okay. Hopefully.

-

Nobody else ever seems to use the gym here in the Dome, although Chuck supposes that might just be down to the fact that she scares people off. She has it on fairly reliable information that she’s considered kind of scary when she’s angry or letting off steam, but if that gives her some privacy then who is she to complain?

Almost as if summoned by that thought, Jack pokes his head round the door. ‘Permission to enter?’

‘Sure.’ She gets off one last, hard punch, realising that she’s probably overdue for a break anyway. What’s it been? Thirty minutes? Wiping the back of her hand against her face, she sighs. ‘Finished your shift, then?’

‘Yup, now I can pester you as much as I want.’ He sounds far too cheery about that prospect, but he’s at least helpful enough to toss her a towel.

After giving herself a cursory rub - it's not like she's _that_ sweaty - Chuck slings it around her shoulders and drops heavily to the floor beside the technician. She knows exactly what's coming next, mentally counting off the seconds until the inevitable.

‘Seriously,’ Jack bumps her shoulder after fifteen, ‘you’ve only got a few days left before the launch.’

‘Yeah, I noticed.’ It’s not like she isn’t mentally ticking off the days until this whole protracted waiting process is finally over and she can stop worrying that something's still going to get in the way.

‘So, just pick something already!’ His urging is definitely as much about the blank state of his uniform as it is about trying to help her out. Though he doesn’t admit it she’s seen him jealously eying up the backs of Vulcan’s and Horizon’s techs. Such priorities he has.

But this whole naming thing is a lot more of an issue than just him and his uniform gripes. Whatever they choose they're stuck with, and she keeps on coming up blank. It's funny, other cadets at the Academy had always been bandying about ideas for their own Jaegers but it's not like she'd ever gotten involved in that. Mako even had one, not that the other girl had ever been willing to tell her what it was.

Herc's not exactly been any better, for that matter. It'd been Scott who'd named Lucky - as if she hadn't already guessed as much, calling the seventh Jaeger off the production line Seven, who'd have ever thought of that? Alright, alright, she can't exactly talk right now, but still.

Just today she'd spent a good long while staring at the Jaeger and thinking, up until Winchester insisted that her brooding was unsettling the crew and shooed her off. To be fair, she does have a tendency of distracting Jack, and now that they've got a launch date the head tech is less tolerant of his slacking than before. They want the Mark-5 in perfect condition for the sake of the politicos, which means for every jaunt outside the Dome she gets another deep clean.

Shaking her head, Chuck chooses not to try explaining it over again. It's not a problem he can understand, how important it is to make sure that it's the right name they give the Jaeger. 'What, you want to be stuck with something random?'

'Better than nothing.' He shrugs, the gesture preventing him from adequately dodging her soft, retaliatory punch.

'Awful uppity for a tech, you are.'

Undeterred and confident that she's not really annoyed, Jack sidles closer and prods her in the side insistently. 'Aw, come on, I'm more than that and you know it.'

She elbows him, just narrowly resisting the urge to roll her eyes. 'Yeah, you're a right pain as well.'

'Ach, you wound me.' The way he's still grinning at her rather undermines the impact of the words.

Suspicious that the technician is planning something and simply trying to get her to let her guard down, Chuck raises a fist in half-serious warning. 'I could do a lot worse.'

Any attempt to follow through on the threat is promptly cut off, however, by a sudden attack of the happy dog variety. Whenever he finds her sitting on the floor Max can't seem to resist the urge to start climbing all over her and possibly trying to push her to the ground in the process.

Following not too far behind, Herc makes an exasperated noise even though he knows better than to try actually interfering. 'Max, take it easy.'

'It's fine; you just can't help yourself, can you?' Element of surprise aside, Chuck has no objections to being on the receiving end of dog affection. Even if he can be a bit of a slobbery handful sometimes. Happy to reciprocate the favour, she quickly wrestles Max to the floor for a tummy rub. 'And where have you been then, huh, handsome?'

Ever since she suggested that the two of them bond Max seems to have spent almost as much time with her dad as he has with her. Which is good, she's beyond happy that Herc's taken to him as much as he has, it means a lot. Still, it's a bit strange, having her dog disappearing off for bonding time with someone else.

Because the bulldog is hardly going to be able to give her any answers Herc has to step in with the explanation. 'We were just coming to find you actually.'

'Oh, really?'

Apparently not intrigued at all, Jack is already up and dusting off his knees. 'Well, I should really be taking a shower. All that looking after our nameless Jaeger is not the cleanest of work.'

Neither he nor Herc acknowledge each other, unsurprisingly. What's worse are those rarer occasions when Jack decides to actively get on her dad's nerves, because they're still just as at odds with each other as the day she'd arrived. In spite of a couple of attempts to get to the bottom of things she's also no closer to understanding just what their problem with each other is.

Although the tech can't quite resist one little shot as he clears the room. 'Later, hot stuff.'

As much as that nickname annoys her, for some reason it always seems to get to Herc more. Which is precisely why Jack refuses to let it go, of course.

Keen to distract him from glaring at the now-empty doorway, and just a little curious, Chuck clears her throat. 'So, you've found me, what's the deal?'

It works, fortunately, and he turns back to her with a shrug. 'There's something I want to show you.' 

_Okay?_ 'You're not going to give me any more than that?'

'You're just going to have to see for yourself.' He offers her a hand up and Chuck is all too happy to take it. 

Even though they seem to manage to touch each other all the frigging time that doesn't stop her getting the slightest thrill out of it. Pathetic. Especially her disappointment when he lets go at the first opportunity. That's just normal, he doesn't even have to think about it.

Mentally berating herself, she takes a moment to catch up to him before falling back into step easily enough. Without prompting, Max trails happily along just behind them as he always seems to do now. This is good, why does she have to spoil it by being weird?

Much as she keeps shooting him inquisitive looks Herc gives nothing away, set on preserving the mystery and leaving her to draw her own conclusions. Which isn't something she likes, too inclined to come up with wild worse case scenarios, so it's not long before she cracks and runs with the first subject that comes to mind.

'Have you been thinking about the name any more?' She kind of wants to slap herself because this is a dead-end and she knows it.

If he's thrown by the somewhat abrupt question he doesn't show it. 'I have.'

Really helpful mood he's in right now. 'And?'

Unsurprisingly he shakes his head, apparently determined not to give her anything at all right now. 'I still want to hear your ideas first.'

So they're back on this old merry-go-round, both reserving comment until the other goes first. Unfortunately, the two of them are stubborn enough to have kept this up for well over a week now, and the deadline's drawing ever closer. Like hell does she want Bauer or someone else naming _their_ Jaeger. That doesn't change the fact that nothing she's been able to come up with fits, though.

Not in the mood to argue this, Chuck lets it go yet again. Maybe if she leaves it long enough he'll break and put something forward. Which is probably the exact same thing he's betting on.

By the time they reach their apparent destination she's at least somewhat twigged, frowning as he leads her out onto one of the cluster of elevated walkways that weave back and forth around the Mark-5. Mercifully it's deserted, sparing her any worries about the head tech attempting to shoo her off again. Looking down, the floor of the hangar seems an awful long way away, it can be easy to forget just how big the Jaegers are after effectively being one.

They're about level with the still somewhat contentious chest, and for just a moment she lets herself entertain the idea that they might have gotten rid of that little sticking point. A girl can always hope. But she'd have damn well noticed modification of that level going on, and there doesn't seem to be anything inherently different about the Jaeger itself.

No closer to understanding the point here, Chuck has to ask; 'What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?'

Still not doing the simple thing and just telling her, he goes a little further along the walkway and gestures at the Jaeger by way of explanation. So it _is_ something to do with the Mark-5 then? Directing one last quizzical look at him, she leans against the railing and turns her full attention to the machine in front of her.

It doesn't take her long to see it at all and a few things abruptly click into place. Because right there on the side of the Jaeger is a bulldog. Holding a goddamn missile in its mouth. A lot of the Jaegers have logos on them, part of the limited degree of personalisation Rangers are allowed to get away with. That and it works well from a marketing standpoint as well, extra distinction between teams.

There's half of Jack's gripe sorted anyway.

'Is this why you've been stealing him so much?' It's certainly one way of making things up to Max, turning him into their official mascot.

'Partly.' Good to hear that isn't the only reason, but if Herc's choosing to immortalise Max via the Jaeger then it's probably safe to say that he likes him.

'Then you've already given it your seal of approval, hmm?' She shoots a look down at the dog, who remains completely obvious to the fact that he's about to get famous.

'He certainly hasn't objected.' Watching her intently, he still seems to be waiting for a final verdict. 'Seeing as he's taken such good care of you for me, why not?'

As if the gesture itself wasn't already enough he has to go and say stuff like that. Trying to ignore the squishy feeling that gives her, Chuck considers her next words carefully. 'It's perfect. Well, except...'

'What?'

She feels a little guilty for making him worry, but really he only has himself to blame for this. 'Did we have to include the missile?'

Fortunately he laughs, and damn it if she doesn't need to make him do that more often. 'Afraid so, it's part of the package.'

Sighing with false weariness, she lets the matter slide. It's true that those rockets are one of the major selling points of the Mark-5, as much as she'd rather they weren't. And it does make it look a lot more suitably aggressive, especially compared to Vulcan and their stylised head-butting rams.

'But, other than that, you do like it?' Herc presses for the confirmation, as if she could do anything else.

'Course I do, I love it.' That's the truth, though she stops short of finishing the thought - _and I love you for doing it._ Draping her arms over the railing, Chuck turns to him, 'Now we just need that name.'

'Well,' he leans against the rail, brushing casually against her side in the process, 'I think this makes it your turn.'

She'd had a bad feeling he was going to say something like that and still she'd walked straight into it. Someone has to go first, or else they'll be stuck calling their Jaeger 'the Mark-5' forever… There is one thing, thinking back to that first time inside the Conn-Pod and the feeling it'd given her. It's not a whole name - all of them are mandated to stick to a two-word format - but it's at least a start, she guesses.

'Eureka?' As soon as she says it she knows that it fits. To her that's what this Jaeger is, the freedom, the elation, the triumph.

Herc nods in approval, confirmation that they're still very much on the same wavelength, at least where some things are concerned. Even if that wasn't what he felt at the time as such he'd still experienced her feeling it. 'Sounds good; that wasn't so hard.'

'So finish it.' Pleased as she is with his agreement, Chuck isn't about to let him wriggle his way out of this.

Taking his time about it, eventually he suggests; 'Maybe Seven?'

 _Oh for fuck's sake_. She whacks him for that, not appreciating his sense of humour right now. 'Seriously?'

'Okay, not that then...' For a moment she thinks he's going to try putting forward the other half of his old Jaeger's name but, to her relief, he knows better than to do that. If just to keep her from resorting to further violence. 'How about Striker?'

Certainly better than just repurposing an old name, that's for sure. Even if it does keep the 's' in common. Taking a long hard look at the Jaeger, she mulls it over, although not for any length of time. 'Striker Eureka; I like the sound of that.'

-

Despite the growing sense of anticipation in the Dome there's also an increasing grimness as September begins, the atmosphere getting progressively more oppressive. Because even after five long years the scars of that horrific day are yet to fade.

In some ways it's better than the claustrophobia of that house in Perth, with Gran's increasingly snide comments and heavier drinking. But in others it's much worse, with the way she can _feel_ people judging her as she tries and fails to find a way to distract herself. Here there's simply no getting away from the memories, the nightmares, the thoughts.

Fortunately nobody questions the fact that they stop Drifting a few days ahead of the anniversary, it'd probably be suicide to try when her mind's going to pieces like this all over again. But, without the reassurance of their shared headspace, Chuck finds it harder and harder to fight off the thoughts as they get louder and louder.

_It should've been you. If it weren't for you everyone would be happy. Sick, ungrateful, undeserving. You deserve to die._

Sleep is useless, even that isn't an escape. So, rather than causing a fuss, she forces herself to lie still until a good while after the sound of his breathing has evened out. It's better if she's not here in the morning anyway, the day will be bad enough without her sticking around.

Moving slowly and trying not to breathe, Chuck carefully lowers herself to the floor. Sneaking out would definitely be easier if she'd just taken the damn bottom bunk, but maybe that had been part of his rationale for taking it in the first place.

It's one of those nights that Max is in his own bed, giving her another obstacle to work around as she grabs a jacket. Yes, taking her time makes it more likely that she'll wake him up, but she's not far gone enough to think walking around the Shatterdome in just her pyjamas is a good idea. That's not something she can imagine herself ever living down if the wrong person saw her.

While she avoids disturbing the dog, however, no sooner does she get her hand on the door than the sheets shift. Herc's just not a deep enough sleeper, can't be really when they have to be ready to go at the first sound of a Kaiju alarm.

'You okay?' The question's all rolled into one by his just-woken-up slur and why does he have to be so damn tempting?

'Fine.' She can't make it as breezy as it should be, so all she can do is hope that he's not quite awake enough to see straight through that.

Because nothing's allowed to go right for her that naturally just wakes him up more. He doesn't turn on the light yet but she can feel him frowning at her through the darkness as he sits up. 'Then where are you going?'

Shit. Chuck doubts she'll be able to offer him any explanation that he'd like and now that she's got his attention he won't just let it go. But talking to him is about why she can't sleep is about the last thing she wants to do right now.

'I just need to get some air.' That's the best answer she can come up with, and it has the benefit of being basically true. Minus the underlying reasons. 'Go back to sleep.' _Please._

Herc takes an awfully long time to weight that up, deciding whether he believes her or if he's going to push further. If he told her to stay she's not sure she could resist, because as much as there's a thought telling her to back off she also wants to ask for comfort. But, in the end, it seems that he's still a bit too groggy to fight her on this. It's not like she hasn't taken Max out in the middle of the night before, after all.

'Just don't get lost.'

Chuck doesn't reply, instead slipping out the door as quickly as she can, on the off chance that he abruptly changes his mind. Of course she ended up disturbing him, of course.

Rather than following the route of her normal lap, she heads for the nearest staircase and starts to climb. Usually she's happy enough to take the lift, even in the middle of a run it offers a useful enforced break, but she doesn't feel like taking a shortcut today. It's nowhere near as many flights as a trip downwards would be anyway.

Although she's not sure of the exact time it's still late - or maybe early - enough for there to not be all that many people up and about. Anybody awake will be working, keeping the Shatterdome running around the clock. They can never let their guard down, not even today. But whoever’s on duty will be holed up in LOCCENT for the most part or down in the hangar, not up here.

A strong blast of air hits her as she pushes open the hefty door and steps out onto the helipad. While it makes more noise as it closes than Chuck would like it's not as if there's anyone to hear it other than her. It's kind of eerie, even though it's pretty well-lit the place takes on a different sort of feel at night. Matches her own mood quite nicely.

Picking her way around the various boxes and pieces of machinery that stand ready for the first signal of action, she can't resist running a hand along the side of a Jumphawk on her way past. Not the same model or anything, but even the smallest things bring back the memories. There'd been an hour's warning, giving people a chance to evacuate before the military attempted nuking the Kaiju again. Not enough, not by a long shot. If he hadn't come for her she wouldn't have stood a chance of getting clear of the blast radius in time. A lot of people didn't. 

It wasn't just the Kaiju they'd had to run from back then. The Jaegers hadn't even been a concept this time five years ago and the politicians had been getting increasingly desperate. Sacrifices had to be made. And some of them were the wrong ones.

Rather than going to look at the city - lit up, repaired and alive - Chuck heads towards the far side of the roof. The black waters of the Pacific stretch out to the horizon, even if she can't see all that far in the dark without the help of Striker. It isn't calm tonight, waves crashing heavily against the rocks and the walls below. Not like that day, when the ocean had been still, disguising the imminent ruin and destruction that swam beneath its surface.

She hates the water, but the sound of the waves and the smell of salt on the air is still calming, peaceful in its own way. There's a guardrail around the edge of the building, just in case anyone happens to slip, and Chuck is quite happy to make use of it. Sinking to the floor, she slides her legs underneath and leans forward to rest her arms on the lower rail. It's a good vantage point, with the sense of vertigo driving away some of the feelings that are knotting in her stomach.

How long she can get away with staying up here she doesn't know. It'll be some time yet before the day-shift starts, and as much as work is supposed to proceed as normal she doubts there'll be much in the way of supply drops to bring crews to the helipad. Then there's the memorial service. Only the first four Kaiju attacks are considered to really merit those, although K-Day is the only one that tends to be marked around the world. By sane people and Kaiju cultists alike.

In Perth it'd just been a minute's silence, for the most part, easily endurable. But here, especially in the local Shatterdome, it's marked a bit more substantially. She's not sure she can face it, at least not this year. Maybe not ever. After all, her hands are hardly clean.

The sky hasn't even started to change colour when she catches the sound of footsteps coming her way. Advance warning, it's not sensible to sneak up on somebody who's got their legs hanging over the edge of the building, guardrail or no guardrail. She keeps her eyes firmly set on the ocean, not ready for this either.

'Chuck.' He slides a hand onto her shoulder, an extra restraint. 'What's going on?'

Ignoring the question, she shrinks in on herself a little bit further. He shouldn't be here. 'I thought I told you to go back to sleep.'

Realising that she's not in an especially cooperative mood, Herc lets go to take a seat next to her. Close but not too close. 'I was worried.'

Which was not what she'd been going for here at all. He shouldn't be concerning himself with her, not today of all days. Besides, all she'd wanted was to get some air and just maybe avoid everybody for as long as possible. It's not like she was going to _do_ anything to herself, they've been through this.

'I said, I'm fine.' The way she grits her teeth says otherwise but it's the only way she can get it out.

'And I can tell when you're lying.' It's said less as an accusation and more as an insistent reminder. 'Pushing me away again won't work.'

This isn't fair, she doesn't have the capacity to reason with him right now. Can't even argue with her own thoughts, for fuck's sake, how is she supposed to win against him? 'Don't, Dad.'

'It wasn't your fault.'

'Yes it was.' Chuck says it without thinking, more to herself than anything. If she'd stopped to think about it she'd never have admitted it, because this is exactly the sort of shit that just shouldn't be said out loud, no matter how much she's thinking it.

Just as she'd have expected that gets a reaction. Reaching round he cups her cheek, pressing gently but insistently so that she finally faces him. 'Listen to me; you didn't make that Kaiju appear, and it wasn't you who ordered that nuke.'

Obviously, that's not what she's saying. 'But if I-'

' _I_ chose to come for you. That's on me, not you.' Realising that even that might not be enough convincing, he decides to pull out the final stop. 'And you know your mother never would've forgiven me if I hadn't. She would've wanted you to be safe.'

Somehow in all this time they've managed to dance around this, never bringing any mention of Mum into things. An unspoken agreement between them not to poke the wound, it's simply easier not to. Too much pain, too much guilt.

Biting her tongue, Chuck shakes her head. What is she even supposed to _say_ to that? _She would've rather been alive, wouldn't she? She was worth more than me. You would've been happier with her._

'Sh, none of that.' His hand brushes across her cheek, and she hadn't even realised that she was crying. 'You can't keep beating yourself up like this, sweetheart, it's not healthy. What happened happened, there's nothing you can do about that and you shouldn't feel like you need to. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you have nothing to apologise for.'

If only because he sounds as upset as he does Chuck pulls her legs back in and promptly buries herself against him. She brought him up here in the middle of the night, after all, the least she can do is hug him like her life depends on it. Judging by how tightly he wraps his arms around her in response Herc definitely needed this too. 

It's true. She can't change the past, it's useless to pretend that anything she does can erase what happened. But... Maybe she doesn't need to. All this guilt and pain, it hurts. So much. And it's clear that it's hurting him too. Refusing to let it heal like this, all she's doing is dragging it back up for him, isn't she? Making it worse, of course.

So... so she has to let it go. Focus on what she can do, on getting even. And with him, with Striker, she can. That's the best she can do, stop pulling him down and kill Kaiju one after another after another. Tear them to shreds and make sure that nobody else has to go through this again. The real blame lies with the Kaiju, it always has, she just needs to remember that.

Breathing in and then out for several counts, willing herself back into shape, Chuck raises her head just a little to look up at him. 'Are you... okay?' 

There's a lot more to the question than that, more than she's capable of putting into words, and she's confident that he understands as much.

Though he doesn't take long to answer there's no doubting that when he speaks it's the truth. 'I'm getting there.' 

Good answer. Resting her head back against his chest, Chuck closes her eyes and breathes out. The chill that's seeped into her bones starts to fade as her mind quiets. Neither of them seems much inclined to move, only getting themselves more tangled up together as the sky starts to show signs of brightening.

But it can't last, it's stolen time and if she's going to start putting the past behind her then she can't hide from today. That doesn't stop it hurting, though, having to stand there and relive it all as the Shatterdome pays its respects. Still, when the guilt makes her stomach churn and it starts to get too much she reaches out and takes his waiting hand. He squeezes and that's how they get through it; together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was... mostly happy? I guess the important thing is that this is another step forward for Chuck, slow but steady does it. And Striker finally has a name, to boot. That didn't take forever or anything.
> 
> In other news my laptop should be back from repairs by the end of the week. Sadly the hard-drive failure did take half a future chapter and all my bookmarks with it, but at the end of the day it could've been a lot worse.
> 
> As always, thanks for stopping by, wonderful people.


	23. Hearsay

It's impressive, just how _boring_ they can make the act of launching a Jaeger. As far as the politicos seem to be concerned this is just another chance to pat themselves on the back for an idea that wasn’t even theirs. Which means lots of standing around at attention and pretending to listen, trying not to make it too obvious how utterly tedious she’s finding this whole thing. Chuck’s honestly starting to think that fighting a Cat-IV would be easier than this, it’d certainly be a hell of a lot more interesting.

Admittedly she's just a bit more crabby than usual about it because _somebody_ in authority had decided that this is the sort of occasion that requires them all to be in dress uniform. So she gets to be uncomfortable _and_ bored out of her skull. One consolation, however small, is that nobody had been brave enough to try insisting on a skirt, not after she’d made her thoughts on the matter pretty damn clear at the first mention. That and it’s not yet far enough into summer for there to be any stifling heat to deal with on top of everything else.

At her side Herc doesn't seem to even twitch, used enough to this sort of thing from his years in the Program and the military before that. His focus remains unwaveringly where it should be, something that only really encourages her to keep shooting sideways glances at him. Which she can only hope are a lot subtler than they feel. But it’s really all the fault of these pompous assholes that she’s stuck in a situation where she has nothing to distract herself from the temptation of eyeing him up.

Bit of a shame he'd had to shave for this, she prefers it when he looks a bit more relaxed and has a couple of day's worth of stubble. Not that he ever looks any less stupidly attractive, that is, to her eternal downfall.

Because Chuck had basically tuned out within a minute of the speeches starting it catches her slightly off guard when the applause finally kicks in, still in the middle of fantasising about the graze of stubble against her skin. It’s just as well nobody is looking at her, or else the conspicuous delay in her reaction to what she could only assume was a rousing address would have easily given her disinterest away. Or even something worse, what with the too guilty way she looks away from him.

Theoretically here is where they should be free to go, seeing as the official ceremony itself is now over, but in reality it doesn't work like that. Unfortunately. No, instead the speechifying gives way to mingling, which is almost worse because she won't be able to get away with not paying attention when whoever's speaking is up close and personal.

Subconsciously her eyes stray to the nearest viable exit point, mind already calculating how many steps it would take to get away at an inconspicuous pace. It’s twenty-three.

All too tuned in to her thought process, Herc leans just slightly into her personal space and lowers his voice. ‘Don’t even think about it.'

Perfectly aware of the fact that he’s not above dragging her right back out here whether her escape is staged politely or not, Chuck lets out a faint sigh. Dealing with politicos who are all too likely to see nothing but the fact that she’s a teenage girl is not her idea of a good time. She’d much rather be spending these hours with Max, who is probably bouncing off the walls of Jack’s room right about now. Stupid tech, being able to get out of this. Showy crap wasn’t what she’d signed up to the Program for, but it’s still an unfortunately big part of being a Ranger.

She doesn’t get long to mourn her short-lived dreams of escape, though, as Marshal Pentecost is already making a bee-line for them, the Secretary-General in tow. Straight in at the deep end then.

'Sergeant Hansen, glad to see we lured you back into action.’ Despite the fact that he's basically the top of the chain of command, Dustin Kreiger certainly doesn't come across as at all aloof.

'It'd take an awful lot to keep me away.' Herc responds in kind, and it feels like a more genuine answer than she thinks he'd give to most of these people.

'That's just as well, it'd be a sorry day for the Program to lose a pilot of your calibre.' Kreiger certainly knows what he's talking about, she'll give him that. Then, inevitably, his attention has to go and turn her way instead. 'And I've heard some very promising things about you.'

 _Who from?_ Chuck comes within a split second of saying that out loud before cutting herself off in the nick of time. Might be better not to sass the guy that basically signs off on all the PPDC’s funding. This is going to be a long afternoon, she can just tell, having to constantly watch what comes out of her mouth. She is so much more at home with just punching things.

Seeing as polite silence isn't an option, given that Kreiger seems to expect some sort of response to that leading statement, she pulls out her most diplomatic approach. And tries not to inwardly, or outwardly, cringe at herself. 'Hopefully I live up to them, sir.'

'If your father's anything to go by I don't doubt you will.' The Secretary-General gives her a winning smile, one that doesn't carry a trace of condescension. And although someone else promptly catches his attention he excuses himself with a polite nod. ‘I very much look forward to seeing what this Mark-5 can do.'

Even though that was actually a lot less painful than she’d expected that doesn't stop Chuck from feeling the need to sag. She has an awful certainty that Kreiger was probably the easiest one of the lot and from here on out it’s going to be nothing but obnoxious wankers to endure. At least it doesn’t matter if she slouches a little in front of the Marshal, this is probably the closest thing she’s going to get to proper downtime for a while.

Rather than commenting on it, Herc turns to the Marshal. 'He didn't take much convincing then?'

'Kreiger trusts my judgement, and he understands the data.' There's an undercurrent of frustration to the words, as if Pentecost has had to do a lot more arguing with the other figures that exercise influence over the PPDC. It reminds her of the fact that the man is, at the end of the day, on her side in all this. 'Any more problems?'

As if on cue the two of them share a glance, probably just as damning as if they'd both turned and looked straight in Bauer's direction. Who, as it happens, had made the very wise decision of buggering off as far as he could to the other side of proceedings at the first opportunity. If nothing else that saves them the hassle of having to pretend to be on better terms with each other for the sake of the audience.

In order to keep it civil she bites her tongue and lets him answer. 'Not as such.'

'Good.’ Pentecost nods with the slightest trace of satisfaction, he’s likely had to deal with just as much of the Commander’s bitching as they have.

While she has the opportunity, Chuck takes advantage of the slight pause to ask a question with an answer she actually cares about. 'So how's Mako doing?'

Seems the Marshal had expected that, offering very little in the way of visible reaction as if this isn’t his daughter they’re talking about. The fact that he's keeping his guard up like this tells her all she needs to know, though. 'She's doing very well.'

Irked, she can't resist pressing further, cutting straight to the chase. 'Trialled her against anyone yet?'

'No.' It's an unmistakable warning tone. Apparently, Pentecost doesn't want to talk about this, likely for the exact same bullshit reason that he's refusing to let his perfectly capable daughter advance.

But Chuck isn't one for excuses, not when she knows how much her friend wants the chance to fight. And just how much she deserves it too. So maybe the next words out of her mouth end up sounding a little more aggressive than is entirely wise under the circumstances. 'How much longer you planning on making her wait?'

For all his impassiveness there’s no missing the way that question makes him twitch, expression hardening just that little bit as he draws himself up to his full height. ‘My decisions are none of your concern, _Ranger_.'

So she’s put her foot in it, right now she couldn’t care less about that. What’s important is that he stops holding Mako back like this, because it’s for no good reason, just him abusing his authority due to some sort of misplaced protectiveness. And even though the man clearly doesn’t want to listen to her she’s not about to back down either. That’s how things get done around here, isn’t it?

Focused solely on squaring up against the Marshal, she’s caught a little off guard when Herc subtly but deliberately edges between them. It’s the mildest form of physical intervention, just enough to make the point. And yes, it probably would be a tremendously stupid idea to get into a proper fight with the operational head of the PPDC on her first official day of active duty.

Locking eyes with her, he growls in a way that is only slightly distracting. 'This isn't the time.'

Nothing shuts her down like his disappointment. Still, with the awareness of more than just her burning indignation returning, Chuck can’t resist one last mutter. ‘Someone has to say it.'

‘Later.’ Herc softens slightly now that the imminent danger has passed, but he’s no less firm about it.

Of course, Pentecost isn’t going to give her the chance to say it later, after this little shindig is done and dusted she’s sure he’ll disappear back off to the US at the first chance. It’s not like she can just call him up to argue Mako’s case further, the bastard would hang straight up on her without batting an eye. And with another opportunity to get him to sort out this overprotective bullshit gone it seems all but certain that he’ll be shuttling his daughter off into one of the other divisions in only a matter of time. Honestly, who does he think he’s helping by doing this?

She’s still simmering when their local UN rep comes strolling over for a chat, but for Herc's sake she resolves to make an effort to not snap or respond only in angry glares. An effort which is made no easier by the fact that the politico takes one look at her and immediately plays the age card.

‘Crikey, you really are a young one, aren’t you?'

‘Well, if you need any proof I can punch...’ Chuck gives him one of her most dangerous smiles, one step away from baring her teeth, but it’s not like the guy’s going to know she’s serious, is he?

Rather than being offended - like everyone else’s tensing seems to suggest - the man simply laughs. ‘A proper little spitfire! Your girl’s got real spunk, I like it.'

 _And I don’t like you, mate._ She’d’ve rather he’d taken her threat at face value than be laughed at, half-tempted to follow through before Herc squeezes her shoulder. Oh, right, she’s supposed to be on good behaviour, isn’t she?

‘That she does.’ There’s something a little strained in her dad's response, and she’s inclined to think that he shares her thoughts on the rep even if he has to play nice. Still, the look he shoots at her is as much one of fondness as it is warning, and at the end of the day it’s only really his opinion of her that matters.

-

By the next morning the Shatterdome’s entirely back to normal, which is a very welcome thing. At least she never has to go through another one of those again, even if Chuck doesn’t doubt that she’ll end up roped into hell knows how many other functions in future. But for the time being, back in her usual slacks and t-shirt, she feels much more at ease.

Herc has taken Max off for a walk, leaving her to another of the apparently traditional pilot card game sessions. On this occasion, the game of choice is rummy, which she has the benefit of having actually played before. Although Vulcan’s pilots keep telling her they’re going to have to teach her bridge they’ve yet to follow through on it. Mostly because they keep ending up with too many players thanks to Horizon’s crew, who aren’t due to ship back to Hong Kong for a few more days and are also seriously competitive to boot. Apparently, some of the other teams are a bit more chill about it, although as Lucas has pointed out the fact that they’re so focused makes them better opponents. Just never play against the Russians, he'd warned her, _especially_ not at the same time as these two.

They’re in the middle of a particularly intensive hand, with barely anyone speaking in spite of the fact that this time there’s no rule penalising it, when a shouting match breaks out near Vulcan’s feet. Undeniably curious, Chuck lays her cards flat on the table - with a hand on top to avoid any attempts at cheating - and cranes to get a look. It’s not often at all that physical arguments break out in the Dome, not with Bauer and his zero tolerance policy potentially lurking around every corner, so this is a real novelty.

Turns out to be more of a heated scuffle than an actual fight by the looks of it, though. Scratch that, it’s basically a tug of war over… a newspaper? With the head of Vulcan’s maintenance team really determined to wrestle the offending object from one of his underlings, for some reason.

Lucas and Kaia share a deliberating look before the Kiwi gets abruptly to her feet and bounds over. For all her exuberance she certainly sorts the matter out in remarkably quick time, with the losing party slinking back off to work with his tail between his legs. There’s a relatively brief exchange between the Ranger and her head tech, one that seems to involve an awful lot of frowning and gesturing at the recovered newspaper.

Soon enough Kaia walks back over, dragging her feet with an uncharacteristic sort of grimace, the troublesome paper dangling at her side. And she shoots an unhappy look directly at Chuck, who suddenly has a very sick feeling knotting in her stomach.

‘What?'

The older Ranger shakes her head, makes no move to explain, and if she’s hesitating to say it like this then whatever it is really can’t be good. What could they have possibly said? It’s not as if she’d even had a particular chance to piss off the press yesterday.

Swallowing down the unease that’s clawing its way up her throat, Chuck extends her hand. ‘Let me see.'

‘You’re really not going to like it.’ Kaia fiddles with the paper, as if seriously considering the idea of tearing it up rather than handing it over.

‘I can handle it.’ Her eyes narrow, voice coming out sharper than she intends; even though she can appreciate the fact that the Kiwi is telling the truth that doesn’t mean she needs to be shielded from it. This, like every other reminder that the Dome at large still sees her as somehow lesser, grates against her nerves like little else. 'I’m not a child.'

That makes the woman visibly wince, but then she shakes her head and reluctantly gives it up. ‘No, you’re not.’

Perhaps she should be more worried about stepping on the toes of the other Rangers but, at the same time, Chuck needs to make it clear that they shouldn’t be treating her any different. Because they _do_. As good as they can be at being equal there’s still these moments where they seem to suddenly remember that she’s as young as she is and try to compensate. Once she’s been out in the field it’ll change - she tells herself all too often and so does Herc - then everyone will know without a doubt exactly what she’s capable of. Even if that shouldn’t still be in question.

The paper’s folded over to hide the front, crumpled from the earlier tussle, and she takes a second to smooth it out, stalling in spite of herself. While she still has her old collection of articles stashed safely away in the bottom her locker that doesn’t make her any less wary of the press, knowing that not all Rangers are given respect from the get go. Especially if they happen to fall outside of people’s comfort zone.

Quite keenly aware of the fact that the rest of the table is watching her, she bites the bullet and turns it over. Instantly she wishes she hadn’t.

_Pan Pacific Coercion_

Well, fuck.

With a detached sort of clarity Chuck understands what that earlier fuss was about but, at the end of the day, it’s not like she could’ve escaped finding out about this for all that long. Even if they tried to impose a media blackout it wouldn’t work here in the Shatterdome, and what’d be the point anyway? Much as it sets her teeth on edge, she feels the acute need to know. Even if these people’s opinions don’t mean shit to her, public opinion matters a hell of a lot to the Program. That’s what it’s basically built on these days, at least half of its funding coming in from non-traditional means.

But more than that, as she scans rapidly through the article a cold rage starts to build. Not for herself, she’s a fair target, but for Herc. After everything he’s done, how can anyone write this sort of shit with a clear conscience?

_With this the PPDC has made the frankly baffling decision of authorising a sixteen-year-old girl for live combat._

_One does have to wonder just how much of that call was made by former Lucky Seven pilot and brother to the Program’s only court-martialled Ranger, Hercules Hansen, who will be co-piloting the Mark-5 alongside his teenage daughter. Nepotism, perhaps? Or is this a matter of stroking an ego, a shortcut to regaining his place as the most successful Ranger in the Jaeger Program?_

_I for one question the wisdom of entrusting someone so young with the fate of our city, and the many others like it that the Program’s newest Jaeger will no doubt be called upon to defend. For at the end of the day, this Ranger is still little more than a child, one who has perhaps been made to-_

Without thinking about it, Chuck scrunches the article as tight as she can, wanting to just get rid of those vile words. But nothing she can do will erase them, will it? They’ve been written, printed, out there, they can’t be taken back.

‘It’ll get retracted.’ Kaia says that as if it in any way makes this better. ‘Trust me, the PR team’s already going to be coming down on them like a sledgehammer.'

 _Calm. Stay calm._ She repeats it to herself over and over again but it’s just not doing anything. This isn’t like her usual rage, it’s colder and slower and she needs to rip something, some _one_ apart with her bare hands. ‘Never should’ve been printed in the first place.'

‘No, but it’s a free press.'

Even though they don’t yet know the details - unlike god knows how many people who’ve read this disgusting piece of shit by now - the rest of the pilots give sympathetic nods. As if they understand. But they _don’t._ Not like this. None of them have ever been accused of being _groomed_ by their co-pilots.

‘Fuck them!'

Hurling the bunched up paper into the nearest wall as hard as she can, it takes everything she has to walk out of there at a normal pace, to not scream. Why did they have to go for him? It’s not like it’s at all hard to take a shot at her without having to bring her dad into things. Her amazing, gorgeous dad who tries so hard and what does she give him but more trouble?

Though Chuck kind of wants the burn of climbing the stairs, to wear herself down and pay for this mess, she instead makes do with aggressively punching the call button for the lift. Then the wall next to it. Repeatedly. By the time the doors finally slide open with a faint whoosh of air she’s left a stain, only idly wondering how long it’ll take someone to notice or to clean that up. The pain helps some, but nowhere near enough.

‘Hansen.’ It’s the voice of possibly the last person in the world she wants to see right about now. Not least because that look of I-told-you-so on Bauer’s face as he steps out of the lift makes it so incredibly tempting to clock him one.

Making do with dark thoughts, for the time being, pressing down hard on her bloody knuckles to keep herself focused, she manages to straighten her posture slightly and get out a terse; ‘Sir.'

He clearly knows that she knows, is probably disappointed that he didn’t get to be the one who broke this bombshell personally, because the Commander simply walks past her. Not without one of those looks, though, the ones that make it absolutely clear that he thinks she’s lower than dirt. Good thing he doesn’t stop to gloat, or she’d be getting hauled out of here while the ink on that nasty hate piece was still wet.

But she pushes that out of her mind as she drags herself into the lift, focusing on one thought, one purpose; she needs to find her dad. Surely he must have heard it, seen it, by now. From Bauer, most likely. Not for the first time Chuck regrets the fact that she ever lets him out of her sight. Suddenly being a clingy koala doesn’t seem like such a ridiculous thing to indulge in if it saves her having to search the entire Shatterdome in this barely contained state.

He’s not in their quarters, the gym, the rec room, the mess, Striker’s bay, LOCCENT... It’s when she's on her way to go check the roof that she finally hears a muffled bark. From Winchester’s office. As much as it’d seemed like one of the more obvious places to look, Chuck had subconsciously been putting it off. Because this really wasn’t where she’d wanted to find him. At least it’s not the woman’s quarters, though; the thought flashes across her mind and it’s true.

Logically she should just walk straight past, or otherwise knock and go in, but this isn’t the time for logic. Instead, Chuck takes a few slow steps up to the doorway and strains her ears. She’s not stupid enough to risk looking inside, don’t want to get caught after all. And really it seems unlikely that he’d want to speak to her about this at the moment. Well, maybe not as much as he might to someone who _didn’t_ just get his name dragged through the mud.

‘It’s just… hard to see that.' He sounds so dejected it makes her heart twist unpleasantly, so much so that she seriously reconsiders her decision to not go in, but not quite fast enough.

‘Nobody worth their salt’ll listen to such bollocks.’ A chair scrapes in the pause between Winchester’s words. ‘We all know this rag has their own stupid axe to grind with the Program, they’ll say anything to try and damage it, however ludicrous.'

She has to admit that the head tech talks a lot of sense. People would have to be damn morons to really believe this stuff about him. But when a few more seconds go by without either of them saying anything else Chuck frowns, leaning cautiously around the doorframe for a look before she can think better of it. By some great stroke of luck Max doesn’t spot her, buried as he is under a bench in pursuit of something or other. That’s not a positive she holds onto very long for, though, because they’re hugging. Properly.

Right. She steps back. Looks like he’s being taken care of, so she doesn’t have to worry, does she? That’s good. Herc's allowed to go to someone else for comfort, there’s nothing wrong with that. Even though there’s _everything_ wrong with that, her mind helpfully points out.

So what? She wouldn’t have been much good right now anyway. It’s a mostly one-way street when it comes to comfort in their relationship, she ends up just draining it and offering very little in return. And when she can barely talk about her own feelings half the time what help would she possibly be to him?

Without consciously deciding to, Chuck finds herself wandering in the direction of a slightly more familiar room, reverting to old habits in the absence of anything else to guide herself. At least there’s not too many people around in the living quarters right now, and she finds that she’s become numb to the stares anyway. Or at least to the fact that she thinks everyone she passes is giving her looks. This cold feeling is surprising good at overcoming the paranoia, she notes dimly.

To her relief, Jack happens to be in right now, swinging the door open within a microsecond of her actually knocking. He’d been waiting for her to show up. He knows. It’s a confirmation that makes her sag slightly with relief, even though she knows he wouldn’t have pushed her for an explanation had he not already been aware of exactly what was wrong. Well, almost exactly.

Wordlessly, he steps aside to let her in and Chuck is all too happy to throw herself down on his bed. Scruffily made, as always, the Academy hadn’t been enough to instil that sort of order into him.

‘Want to talk about it?'

‘No.’ Closing her eyes, she shuts the world out, kind of wishing that he had something in here she could get away with pulling apart.

The mattress dips as he plops himself down next to her, nudging a leg to make her shift over slightly and make room. It’s an old practice they’d gotten into when she’d been too lacking in energy to do anything more constructive. Some days the two of them had spent hours just laying back on a bed, sometimes without saying one word, other times with Jack carrying a rambling conversation all on his own in an attempt to distract her.

For a while they lie in silence, the technician offering nothing other than the calmness of companionship, but eventually he decides that this is one of the days for talking. ‘Nobody reads the Telegraph anyway.'

Her only reply to that is a vague hum of possible assent. Talking shit about those wankers isn’t going to fix this, she knows that, she just doesn’t know what will.

Giving her ribs a gentle poke, Jack tries again. ‘How’s the old man taking it?'

Shrugging isn’t nearly as easy to pull off when lying down, so when he patiently waits for a bit more of an answer Chuck rolls onto her side with a heavy sigh. ‘How d’you think he’s taking it?'

’Stoically, I’m sure.’ There’s that now-familiar current of dislike again, and it’s like they can’t even mention her dad anymore without it turning into some sort of bitter mood on his part. Seeing her frown, Jack quickly goes on; ‘Just wondering why you’re here rather than with him, is all.'

‘He’s with Winchester.'

‘Oh.’ An awful lot of meaning seems to be packed into that one not-even-word. At least some of it is probably disappointment, that she'd only come to him because Herc was otherwise occupied. But not all of it. ‘That makes sense.'

Pushing herself up so that she’s looking down at him, Chuck narrows her eyes. ‘What the fuck’s _that_ supposed to mean?'

Not having expected to touch quite such a raw nerve, Jack is quick to hold up his hands in a placating gesture. Probably quite aware of the fact that she has the high ground here and is more than capable of walloping him even if she didn’t. ‘Sorry. It’s just, you know, the rumours.'

‘Rumours?’ She really doesn’t like the sound of that, not least because she’s already had it up to _here_ with the shit people say today.

‘Look, it’s nothing, people just talk.’ Though he’s backtracking it’s with a sort of delicacy that the technician has rarely seemed capable of, like he’s consciously trying not to hurt her feelings but is scared to outright deny whatever it is.

‘About _what?_ ’ Nobody ever accused her of knowing when to stop, even when it would definitely be in her best interests to do so, even when she’d already burned herself the exact same way this morning.

Jack takes a moment to sit up, so that he’s not quite so vulnerable in the event of really pissing her off now. This doesn’t seem to be something he wants to say, but he started it so she’s going to make damn well sure that he finishes. Chewing the inside of one cheek, he refuses to meet her eyes at first. ‘About the two of them. There’s just speculation that they… you know, because they’re close, that maybe it’s more than friendship.'

So it’s not just her that thinks that? Hearing that shouldn’t make her feel anywhere near as terrible as it does, but if it’s not just her projecting then maybe there really _is_ something. Maybe she really is deluding herself when she dismisses the possibility of her dad having those sorts of feelings for the head tech. Just because she’s sick in the head and wants him like that it doesn’t mean… ‘Right.’

Very well aware of what the look on her face means, he makes an unhappy noise and scoots closer. ‘It’s talk, Chuck, that’s all. It was stupid of me to mention it.'

‘But-'

‘Oh, come on.’ Cutting her off quickly, he refuses to just let her sink into unhappiness. 'You know how many people think Kaia and Lucas are boning? Even though they’re patently not.'

It’d be a good point, if it had any sort of bearing on what they’re talking about here. Drift partnerships are one thing, this is clearly something else. ‘That’s different.'

‘Only a little bit.’ Jack concedes that somewhat unwillingly, knowing full well that it rather undermines his whole argument. So he promptly switches tact. ‘Anyway, you’d _know_ , wouldn’t you? You’re the one that’s in his head.'

He clearly thinks that’s a winning argument, but Jack has never Drifted. It’s not nearly as simple as people tend to assume, that’s just not how it works. Some things don’t come up, as long as someone’s trying hard enough to keep it out. And while Chuck has done pretty well at cordoning off her own horribly taboo thoughts and feelings she’s got nowhere near the amount of experience Herc does. If he doesn’t want her to know something she’s pretty confident he could keep it from her, barring a serious moment of distraction. So, no, she can’t say with absolute certainty that it’s wrong.

Of course, she can’t explain how she knows that. The whole ‘well, _I’m_ certainly managing to keep my feelings from him’ explanation. Much as she does trust the technician, there’s no way she can tell him. Instead she just shakes her head.

‘I could always ask for you, if you want.’ Which is a frankly ridiculous suggestion and that’s exactly why he’s saying it. 'Might not be taken all that kindly to, though, and I do rather like how my face looks, but if you need me to I’d be willing to make that sacrifice.'

She snorts, his bad attempt at lightening the mood working in spite of it all. ’You wouldn’t dare.'

‘Totally would.’ Jack grins back at her like he isn’t talking about potentially getting himself punched. Because even in the hypothetical situation where he did ask it’d be done in such a way as to almost inevitably goad that sort of reaction out of her dad.

‘Idiot.’ Whacking him playfully in the side, Chuck settles back down onto the mattress. She still needs some time before she can consider leaving, even if she does find herself feeling slightly less shitty.

Just don't listen to it, any of it. Except that’s a whole lot easier said than done, especially when she’d seen that hug with her own eyes. Which way is she deluding herself here? Chuck just doesn’t know and that’s almost the worst part. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you know, there's some of that moral panic I mentioned way back when in the summary... I don't think anyone's taking it all that well.
> 
> As for next chapter? Well, I'll give you one word; Manila.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and see you there.


	24. First Blood

Chuck’s stomach growls, loudly, but that can wait. She’s really not in the mood to face the mess, not yet, heading in the direction of the gym instead. It’s probably just as well that Jack had gone on shift or else they would’ve had to argue about this. While she does undoubtedly feel less shitty now there’s still an itchy feeling of disquiet under her skin, one that she knows is best handled with the help of a punching bag. So what if she’s skipping a meal? This is more important, especially if she’s going to make that damn journo choke on their words at the first opportunity.

Besides, the easiest way to stop thinking about all this is to block it out with training. Once she sinks into her zone there’s no need to think about anything other than the next strike, and she’s honestly had more than enough introspection for one day.

Problem is, Chuck’s not quite paying attention and takes it so much for granted that nobody uses the gym anyway that she fails to spot the collision coming until it’s far too late. Can’t say smacking face-first into Herc's chest was exactly the way she was planning on approaching this. While it doesn’t throw her balance too bad - thank fuck for that - he catches hold of an arm to steady her, which doesn’t exactly help her composure.

‘Shit, sorry.’ It’s a bit more of a mumble than it probably should be but she wasn’t prepared for this, at all. Not least because it’s obvious that he’s just been working out, that faint smell of sweat triggering off her imagination in really unhelpful ways.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ A frown develops all too quickly, though, his suspicion stirred by the way she’s not quite meeting his eyes. 'You okay?'

Not exactly but she’s better than she was a couple of hours ago. So it’s not entirely a lie when she shrugs him off. ‘Yeah, fine.’

There’s still this almost expectant feeling in the air, like he's thinking about that damn article and waiting for her to just say something about it. It’s nearly enough to make her crack, despite how much she really doesn’t want to talk about it, but Chuck hesitates and that’s when the thought comes back. He’s already dealt with this, hasn’t he? In which case her bringing it up all over again is probably unwelcome, isn’t it?

Stupid. She needs to put this behind her, not drag him down, and time’s wasting anyway. ‘Right, well, I’m going in.’

‘Now?’ Herc turns after her, apparently surprised by the fact that walking into the gym was a sign that she was intending to make use of it.

 _No, tomorrow._ ‘Yes, now.'

He’s giving her one of those looks like he’s trying to get a proper read on her thoughts, as if the Drift hangover between them is anywhere near strong enough for that. ‘You eaten yet?'

A noise of exasperation escapes her before she can stop it. Not this. At least she’s got a decent excuse all lined up, shrugging; ‘Not a good idea to eat before exercise, is it?'

‘Then that can wait.’ There’s more than a hint of command in the way he says it, because of course this is one of those times that he isn’t going to take no for an answer. Herc knows full well that she has no intention of leaving this room for a good couple of hours once she’s got started.

Curse that tone. He could tell her to do anything in that growly voice and she’d barely think twice. Which is not something he ever needs to know, added to that growing pile of things that Chuck has to keep walled up every time they Drift. It’s worrying, really, like all she’s doing is building a dam that’s inevitably going to burst, but what choice does she have?

Shaking her head, she makes a show of giving in, even if she gets the feeling that he’s not fooled for a second. ‘All right, whatever.'

The idea of lunch still makes her insides twist in an uncomfortable way, because she knows that most, if not all, of the Dome will know about it by now. Those doubtful thoughts will be back in people’s heads, if they’d ever really gone away in the first place. Just as she’d started to think that people around here were getting generally less bothered by her presence too. Still, as long as he’s not having any second thoughts about her then she can deal with the rest. And given that he’s shepherding her into the mess - again - it seems a fairly safe conclusion that he isn’t.

By silent agreement she takes Max over to their usual spot, noting the way that the nearest techs scoot a little further away, giving her a wider berth. Maybe it’s out of disdain or maybe it’s just out of respect, she doesn’t entirely care.

He brings her a tray, of course he does, and slides it slowly across the table. Which is still sweet even if it is mildly annoying. Shouldn't they be dialling back on the overly parental stuff now? Making as if she isn’t some over-promoted teenager who can’t take care of herself? Well, yeah, there is definitely an element of truth to that, but that’s beside the point.

But as soon as she gives in and just goes along with it Herc suddenly reaches over and grabs one hand, pulling it towards him. Smoothing a thumb across the broken skin he frowns at her. ‘What happened?'

Oh, right, that. Chuck can’t help feeling a little embarrassed about it, how not in control of her temper she still is, even at the same time as really appreciating the gentle touch against her sore knuckles. ‘Nothing. Just a wall.'

‘A wall?’ It’s hard to tell whether it’s concern or disbelief or something else in the way he says that. And so much for them not tackling the elephant in the room.

‘Well, you know, it was that or the Commander’s smug face.’ Better to try and make light of it, and that's the sort of flawless logic he should have no choice but to agree with anyway.

Even so, he’s still fixing her with one of those looks, unimpressed, still holding onto her injured hand like they’re not in the middle of the mess right now. And she doesn’t like it, because this sort of thing isn’t helping at all. He’s giving her ideas despite it being so clear that’s not what this is, and she _knows it_.

With possibly a little too much force, Chuck pulls her hand back, as if she actually cares about appearances here. Maybe one of these days she’ll work up the strength to tell him to stop touching her so damn much. As if.

While he doesn't argue an expression of hurt crosses his face, a brief moment of vulnerability that tells her he isn’t as past that article as she might’ve thought.

That if nothing else prompts her to try and explain herself a bit more, even though she isn't really keen on going here in the middle of the mess. Because there’s the fear that if she doesn't then he might just turn elsewhere again. 'They shouldn’t have said those things about you.'

Herc shakes his head like there's any questioning that, walls coming up. 'It comes with the territory.'

‘Well it damn well shouldn’t.’ While she keeps her voice mostly level the way she stabs at the tray no doubt makes it pretty clear how angry she still is about it. Angry and upset that he wants to hide his real feelings from her. Because if that, then what else? And there goes all that hard work of calming down. ‘You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. Me, I'm fair game, but you-'

'No.' There's no mistaking the ferocity of his disagreement and, sure enough, his jaw's clenched in that telltale way. 'You aren't.'

Is he forgetting the part where she's the unproven one? Sure, she doesn’t doubt that she has what it takes to do this, not after all that time at the Academy. But, at the end of the day, Chuck can’t deny that she's also here because of her name, that the reason she got let in early was because the Marshal wanted to see if she could work with her dad. Which still wasn’t anything to do with him but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And hey, at least nobody's accusing her of getting here on her knees this time.

When she refuses to stop glaring at her food he sighs. A moment later his foot insistently nudges against hers, so he knows he’s properly got her attention before making his case. ’There is nothing fair about putting you down. No-one can pilot a Jaeger if they aren’t damn well capable of it and you’ve more than earned the right to be here. With or without me.'

‘Yeah, and you couldn't have got me into that Conn-Pod if I didn't want to be there.’ Just because she wants to be clear she bumps him back, emphasising the point. Maybe she can’t do all that much, but at least in this moment it seems like that was the right thing, some of that tension seeming to lift from his shoulders.

-

After that shit-storm she doesn't look at the news again, not for weeks. There's no point, it'll only end up pissing her off. Anything really important she’ll end up hearing about anyway, especially given how talkative people are when they don’t think she’s in hearing range. From the sounds of it, things do die down, for the most part. Whatever else there is to be said for the PR department, they are damn good at putting those journos back in their place. And nobody, not even Bauer, tries to suggest pulling her once.

But that doesn’t mean Chuck’s any less relieved when the Shatterdome finally echoes with an all-too-familiar wail. While the Kaiju alarm always gets the adrenaline pumping - especially after all those drills at the Academy - this time it makes her nerves knot in an entirely different way.

‘Striker Eureka, report for duty.'

 _Finally_.

Honestly, it’s hard to tell which of them is more raring to go, as they drop everything and head for the nearest lift. Thank fuck they aren’t on the other side of the Shatterdome, because even Chuck thinks she’d struggle to get across the place in under seven minutes. Max races after them, not understanding the sudden rush but wagging his tail nevertheless. That gives her a stab of guilt, though, it’s not like she’ll have time to drop him off back at the room or settle him properly.

But that turns out to be a somewhat moot point in the end, as Winchester’s waiting just inside the Drivesuit Room, expectant. ‘I’ll take him for you.’

Instinctively, Chuck hesitates. She’s not a hundred percent happy about the suggestion but it’s really just a choice between the head tech or someone else in the Drivesuit Room. And while she lets the techs help her into the Drivesuit that doesn’t mean she trusts them any more. Lesser of two evils, she guesses, giving Max one last ruffle for good measure and relinquishing him with just a little misgiving. It’s not like she knows how long this’ll take, after all, it could be over in an hour or it could last somewhere into the double digits.

Already stepping back, shrugging off her jacket, she can’t contain the need to leave at least one order, seeing as there isn't the time for a full briefing. 'Just make sure he drinks enough.'

‘Will do.’ The woman nods and she’s still going for that friendly thing, still trying to stick an olive branch where it’s not wanted. At least she has the decency to clear out of the room almost immediately and leave them to it, not hanging around to get any looks at-

 _No, get a hold of yourself._ If she wasn’t in the middle of changing Chuck might be tempted to slap herself; can't be going into a Drift like this with those sort of thoughts. That's the kind of rabbit hole that'd lead right to things her dad absolutely shouldn't know about. Because there's no denying what the root cause of her distrust for the head tech is when it comes down to it. And like hell is she going to fuck up their first live drop in such a spectacularly terrible way as that.

At least the suit up's simple and fast, they've all done this enough times now to have the process as streamlined as it’s ever going to get. One of the great things with this pace is that she doesn't get the chance to start properly psyching herself out, not until they’re back in the rig and the Conn-Pod's sealed behind them. In the sudden stillness the adrenaline starts to ease, with the enormity of what they’re about to do. This isn’t a simulation, if she messes up-

‘Hey, you're ready for this. Remember that.' Herc's paused in the middle of his own pre-launch checks to watch her, already seeming to sense her growing tension.

'Sure.' Nerves, just one more thing to clear her mind of. Even so, it's not long before a smile starts to spread across her face, because this is what she’s been waiting for all this time. 'Ready to go kick some Kaiju ass?'

'You know it.' No hesitation, no doubting that this is exactly where he wants to be.

Right on cue the comms sound, breaking the moment, with the typically enthusiastic voice of the LOCCENT Controller. ‘So, we all geared up for the big debut?'

‘Well, we’ll be in real trouble if I’m not.’ Chuck rolls her eyes, wishing that he could have skipped the preamble today. They actually are against the clock this time, after all.

‘Touche.' Nico concedes the point easily enough, sounding distinctly preoccupied as he moves around his console, running through the prep. 'You know what they say, just give it your best, kiddo.'

Rather than offering the inspiration it was no doubt intended to that just makes her expression darken. Because, seriously, _enough with the damn kid stuff already_.

Fortunately another voice takes over the comms before she gets the chance to properly articulate her feelings. At least there’s no risk of Bauer calling her anything of the sort, that’s not disdainful enough for his tastes. ‘We’ve got a signature just through the Breach, pegging the scales at a Category IV. It’s on a southeastern trajectory, our projections suggest an intercept point off the Philippines. Prepare for neural handshake.'

So much for this being relatively quick. The Philippines is a good couple of thousand kilometres northeast of here and while she always knew that Jaegers go all over the place she wasn’t entirely expecting her first live drop to be quite such a trek. Makes sense, though, seeing as this is the first Kaiju attack since Striker’s official activation it’s only right for them to get involved. Especially after all that goddamn fuss. Fortunately, the Kaiju’s had the courtesy to head for the eastern side of the Rim rather than making a beeline for the US, that’d be pretty impossible to play catch up on.

Without a doubt this’ll be her longest Drift yet, by a likely decent margin. Which in itself is kind of daunting if she lets herself stop to think about it. The longer it is the greater the chance that she’ll slip up, and that’s absolutely something she shouldn’t be dwelling on right before the neural handshake. Shit, the withdrawal’s going to be absolutely killer this time, isn’t it? She dreads to think what she might end up doing, which is another big no-no to be carrying into this.

But at least the verbal countdown from LOCCENT tells her that she's got all of seven seconds to focus on something else. Like just how uncomfortable this Drivesuit could end up getting by the time they arrive at the drop zone, for instance.

It's still something of a kick when the neural handshake locks into place, even now that the way their minds mix together is a familiar, welcome thing. The pure rush of feeling as Striker comes back to life does a damn good job of driving away any worries too. Hard not to feel untouchable with their Jaeger up and running around her.

‘All right, all systems looking good and ready to roll.’ Nico says it more for benefit of the Commander and the record than them, seeing as they can already feel that everything’s fine on their own.

‘Very good.’ One of these days Bauer might actually sound like he means that. Or, you know, hell might freeze over. ‘Hong Kong’s already scrambling one of theirs and this may yet turn into a triple deployment. Position of the drop to be confirmed once we’ve got a better idea of the situation, for the time being sit tight and await further orders.'

‘Yes, sir.’ Not like there’s much other option during an air-lift after all.

The cables that’ll carry them out of the Shatterdome and all the way to the Philippines had begun to be fastened into position even before the Commander’d finished speaking, Chuck can feel it, skin prickling. It’s all narrow time windows and efficiency, as well-practiced as any other part of the deployment procedure. In spite of the somewhat lacking seriousness of certain individuals, that is.

‘Hawks in position to begin airlift… Be sure to fasten your seatbelts.'

No sooner has the LOCCENT Controller said it than the Jaeger lurches, which is just slightly disorientating. At least Chuck can't exactly fall over in the rig, even if she's sure her resulting wobble wasn't the most dignified thing. Of course, there's bound to be a bit of turbulence as the Jumphawks properly take Striker's weight, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

'Take-off's always the worst part.' The way he's barely even reacting to it says otherwise, as if they’re on completely steady ground right now, but then Herc’s used to this. Sensing her continued disgruntlement, he follows up with a mental prod; _It's easier if you don't tense._

_You don't say._

This is going to be a long ride.

-

Fortunately the Jumphawks are a damn sight faster than most other things in the sky, even if she does find herself wishing they could've run it instead. That'd be better than just hanging from the support cables like this. Chuck’s used to actually doing _something_ when she’s hooked up to the rig, she’s never been the best with waiting either. But that’s the price for the payoff, no shortcuts when it’s real.

While Nico does resist the temptation to pass the journey with an ode to volcanoes or something he keeps up a running commentary on the situation as it unfolds. Which admittedly isn’t all that much, seeing as the Kaiju - which had acquired the name Nammu not so long after they’d set out - is moving at an unusually slow pace across the ocean floor. Big and slow, a nice easy one to get her eased into things.

Not that she doesn’t want a challenge, that is. After all this waiting, when the unmistakable forms of two Jaegers come into focus up ahead she’s more than ready for a fight, adrenaline stirring all over again. She’s never been up close to another active Jaeger before, much less two. Still, Chuck definitely isn't going to be standing back and watching, this Kaiju's theirs.

Straightening just a little, slipping easily back into a state of readiness, Herc checks the console, flipping a couple of switches like it’s all second nature. ‘Alright LOCCENT, approaching drop-zone, preparing to disengage transport.'

‘Roger that, Striker.’ Seeing as Bauer's apparently gone on another break Nico's the one who has to carry on with delivering the orders. ‘You’re going to cover the southern approach, for the time being, take up position a few kilometres out and await contact. Do not let it enter the bay. And show those tossers what really matters.'

'Copy that, LOCCENT.' His hand hovers over the release, offering advance warning. _Remember, don't tense._

'Oh shut up.' Even though Chuck mutters it under her breath it's still clear that he hears it from the sense of amusement that emanates through the handshake.

In response he simply triggers the release, causing one hell of a plunge as the cables snap back and gravity takes over. It's a pretty straight drop down, mercifully, with Striker’s feet hitting the seabed within the space of a couple of seconds. Even though she can't see it Chuck's sure that must have caused an impressive impact, but mostly she's just glad to feel solid ground beneath her again.

Aside from their disturbance the sea’s calm, peaceful. Out here it’s a moderate spring day with barely a cloud in the sky, all in all pretty good conditions for a fight. Less natural interference to give an extra edge to the Kaiju when it finally gets here, which it could probably do with. The late afternoon sun is still bright, although the sensors filter that out, even though it's beginning to slowly sink towards the horizon. Even if Nammu doesn’t get here before nightfall, which it damn well should unless it decides to take an abrupt detour, that shouldn’t cause any problems.

A number of helicopters are circling overhead, like seagulls or maybe vultures, a mixture of PPDC craft and civilian. The press’ll be glad to have had plenty of time to get set up for this, it’s only the third time they’ve had a triple drop after all and a Cat-IV too. It’d be noteworthy even if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s also Striker’s first live run, and hers. So no pressure.

Manila itself isn’t visible, just a faint smudge of colour a few dozen kilometres across the length of the bay. There’s some smaller towns spread around on the headlands, but experience teaches that Kaiju tend to gravitate towards the larger population centres. Which are also the targets of greater importance, higher priority and all that. Especially considering that Manila’s one of those unlucky places that had attracted a Kaiju in the earliest days of the war. It’s still repairing the scars from that first attack, like Sydney. At least this time the city’s had plenty of notice, and really, it’s not like Nammu’s going to be getting anywhere near that stretch of coastline.

A couple of kilometres away, Horizon Brave has paused mid-patrol, its Conn-Pod swivelled in their direction, silently assessing. At least she knows from up close experience that neither Xichi or Lo Hin have any particular objections to her so the scrutiny doesn’t bother her. They’re honestly a pretty good team to be working with.

But rather than either of those two it’s a vaguely familiar American accent that sounds out the welcome, Jaeger number three. 'About time you got here, thought we were going to have to start without you.’

Further to the north, at the top of the loose cordon is the US Mark-3, Gipsy Danger, Mako’s favourite. Bit of a surprise them being all the way out here too, probably on rotation at one of the local Domes or something. Still, Chuck can’t help being the slightest bit irked by their presence. Arrogant wankers.

 _Play nice._ Herc shoots her a warning look, even as he flips the switch to reply. ‘Well, no need to worry, backup’s here now.'

 _Hypocrit._ Still, she does admit that it’s probably a better idea to just let him do the talking here. After all, there’s a job to focus on and it’s not an overly good idea to get too emotional in the Drift anyway. He doesn’t piss people off as easily as she does, somehow striking the right balance between politeness and snark and knowing when to let go. That’s just one of those skills she didn’t manage to inherit.

But even though they’re in position the Kaiju’s still a little way off, because apparently it’s the slowest bugger that’s ever come through the Breach. That’s apparently due to the fact that Nammu has nothing much in the way of limbs as far as anyone can tell, a lot more like a snake or worm than anything else they’ve seen so far.

Three Jaegers does seem a little excessive to her, which may be pride speaking or maybe just the sneaking suspicion that the suits don’t entirely trust her out in the field yet. Less risk of bad publicity this way she guesses. Even though it may be a sound enough strategy that doesn’t stop it smarting. Trying not to dwell on it, she focuses on treading out a patrol along the edge of the cordon, shooting regular glances at the screens and watching the red blip edge slowly closer.

In the end, they don’t have all that much longer to wait, mercifully. There’s an alert from the scanners just as she catches the way the water’s distorting a few hundred meters out, like something very big is forcing its way upwards. ‘Shit, incoming!'

Horizon’s already on the ball, the closest by simple virtue of the fact that the Kaiju's heading straight for the centre of the mouth, and charges towards the disturbance without hesitation. Only to be nearly thrown off its feet as several thousand tonnes of prickles and blubber comes rocketing out of the ocean at a speed its got no right to have. What was it doing on the way here, sightseeing?

Earlier sonar had it about right, the thing’s like some sort of spiny caterpillar on steroids. There is an awful lot of it too, its whole body arcing up out of the water before it plunges back in. While it doesn’t deal any damage to the Mark-1 with the almost showy move Nammu does wrong-foot them, surging past on its way towards the bay proper.

_Oh no you don’t._

The thing can’t really hide, even without the sensors tracking its heat signature and movement it’s too big to just disappear in these waters. Not that it seems to be particularly bothered with that, or with fighting for that matter. All it seems to want is to get to land, to Manila, for whatever reasoning there is in that alien brain. But that’s not happening.

Even now it’s going a little faster up here on the surface Nammu isn’t any match for Striker’s speed. Which, she has a brief moment to note triumphantly, means they cut it off long before Gipsy gets a chance to close the distance. That earns her a silent reprimand, even though she knows Herc’s still plenty competitive himself.

Safely between the Kaiju and land, they clench a fist and throw it hard into the side of the thing’s head. It connects with a truly satisfying smack, knocking Nammu backwards as it lets out a high-pitched screech. As it reverses course the tail comes swinging up out of the water. But the thing’s not nearly fast enough and they both see it coming, dodging effortlessly.

And oh, this feels _good_.

That hit seems to have triggered something in the Kaiju though, its movements taking on a new purpose as it swims away to bodily launch itself at the approaching Gipsy. The Mark-3 manages to swerve out of the way, but the sea erupts with the force of a small explosion as the monster drives itself back under.

While it doesn’t have claws like many of the other Kaiju it seems to know that its body weight is just as viable as a weapon. If it got the right angle that thing could easily take any of the Jaegers under with the force of the collision. Even if it didn’t manage to keep them down it’d be able to do some serious damage from that alone.

_Good thing it's still slow as hell compared to us._

True, it’s got the weight but not the manoeuvrability. Problem is that aside from its head there’s not anywhere much else to inflict damage on Nammu, thanks to that thick second skin of prickles. Chuck’s not sure the missiles could penetrate properly though that, and honestly, she doesn’t think anyone’s going to want them to test it too soon. While they’re got three salvos of K-Stunners loaded up those things are not cheap to make.

Not quite so conservative with their own weaponry, Gipsy's already got a plasmacaster readied and takes the opportunity to unload it into one of the Kaiju’s bulbous main eyes as it emerges for another lunge. Recoiling, a smear of blue blood staining the area around the now empty socket, the thing screeches as a volley of its spines abruptly shoot out in the direction of its attacker.

The Beckets swear and with good reason. One of the spikes passes within spitting distance of their Conn-Pod, while a couple of the others bury themselves in Gipsy's torso. They don't have the velocity to go clean through, though, fortunately, sticking out of the Mark-3 like it’s a very minimalist pincushion. Hard not to wince in sympathy, even though Chuck’s yet to find out just how badly pain transmits through the circuitry suit herself. That’s a hell of a defence mechanism.

In spite of its apparently instinctive reaction, the Kaiju doesn't seem particularly hurt in and of itself, just pissed off. Unconcerned with the damaged Jaeger, Nammu makes a fresh surge towards land rather than attempting to attack anyone else. It’s certainly determined, she’ll give it that, but determination only counts for so much when it’s up against them.

This time when they intercept it Nammu launches itself up to meet them rather than trying to power its way past. Its massive jaws unhinge to reveal row upon row of teeth, freakishly reminiscent of a shredder, and shit is it an ugly creature. Anything that goes in there certainly ain’t coming back out in one piece.

Keeping out of the way of that nasty mouth, they slip to one side and retaliate with a sharp uppercut. Striker packs a solid wallop, the force of the punch throwing the Kaiju off its course and making it slam back into the sea at an awkward angle. It gives her a good view of its underside, the whole of Nammu’s belly apparently devoid of those troublesome spikes with just a thick layer of blubbery skin protecting its no doubt squishy innards.

‘You see that?'

His affirmative is with her even before he elaborates for everyone else who's listening. 'Looks like the underside’s more susceptible to damage.'

‘Agreed.’ Xichi finally speaks, Horizon coming up fast behind the Kaiju. ‘Less of those spikes.'

‘Maybe it’ll be a nice Kaiju and roll over.’ There’s a slight strain in Yancy’s voice, probably still feeling the pain of those puncture wounds.

Horizon shakes its Conn-Pod in response, evidence that both of its pilots are in complete agreement over that suggestion. ‘We have another idea.’

‘Better,’ Lo Hin adds a moment later, succinct as usual.

Rather than explaining, the Chinese Jaeger spreads its feet wider, bracing itself as its shoulders shift tellingly. A freezing mist is already spreading out from the Mark-1, temperature dropping rapidly around it as air is drawn into the chambers of its trademark weapons. Bright light momentarily scrambles the sensors, two blasts of super-cooled liquid nitrogen firing towards the Kaiju as it makes another attempt to get past. Both hit straight on, ice bursting across the flank of the monster and prompting a number of its spines to break off uselessly. Which leaves them some nice exposed patches to aim for.

'Názhe tā!’ It’s the loudest thing she’s ever heard the pair of them say, possibly because they proclaim it in unison.

As if it can hear them, Nammu gives an ear-splitting shriek of rage. With a surprising display of dexterity, it whips its tail up and swipes it hard into Horizon’s side. Still braced for their shot, the Jaeger doesn’t have a chance to dodge, unable to catch its balance and going down. A spout of water shoots up as Nammu's tail crashes on top of the floundering Mark-1. There's a nasty squealing crunch as the weight and force of it pushes Horizon completely under the waves, arms thrashing in a futile attempt to save itself.

Even though it’s completely different at the same time it’s still too familiar. Before Chuck can even try to stop it the memory comes surging into the Drift and-

_Mawgrim’s all relentless teeth and claws, sinking them into the downed Jaeger. All she can do is watch. Lucky’s thrashing, can’t push it off, and it’s going to breach the reactor if this keeps-_

_Don't!_ There’s a wrench, so hard it's almost physical, as Herc pushes back against the memory, refusing to be pulled in.

Instantly the image of Mawgrim snaps away as the present reasserts itself like a punch to the gut. It’s not that night and they’re still in the middle of a live drop. _Shit_. Fucking rabbit; it just had to be now of all times, didn't it? All those test runs without a single problem and she goes and chases one as soon as there's an actual Kaiju to deal with. Wasn't she supposed to be better than that?

Rather than the annoyance or disappointment Chuck’s half-expecting, though, it's a sense of reassurance that comes through the Drift. _I'm here, it's okay, just focus._

Yeah, right, she needs to get a grip. They don't have time to deal with her shit right now. Even so, it's over almost as fast as it'd begun, one of the benefits of how time in the Drift is a bit more relative. Striker barely seems to miss a step. Fuck, she hopes nobody noticed that.

Except it must have triggered something back in LOCCENT, judging by the confusion clear in Nico’s voice. ‘You guys okay? Either this monitor’s on the fritz or something just happened in there.’

‘Nothing happened.' Herc dismisses it quickly and that’s the end of it, because right now they have to figure out how they’re going to rescue Horizon.

Gipsy's already there, struggling to get any particular traction against the writhing mass of Kaiju through its still plentiful coat of spines. Nammu screeches, contorting as it pushes more of its weight down on the pinned Horizon and tries to simultaneously turn its open jaw on the Mark-3. Thing’s gone from zero to sixty awfully fast in terms of aggression.

'You have terrible breath.' Raleigh quips, pretty lighthearted considering the circumstances, taking a moment to get one plasmacaster loaded and firing straight into the cavernous mouth.

Making use of that distraction Striker drops down and they get their hands underneath the Kaiju’s unhelpfully slippery underside and _lift_. It’s really not much of a grip but it’s leverage, and really that’s all that they need here. But shit, it’s one _heavy_ fucker.

'We got it, grab 'em.'

Fortunately the Beckets don't need telling twice, wasting no time in getting Horizon by the armpits to drag it back and up. From the assorted Cantonese curses coming over the comms neither Xichi or Lo Hin seem to be entirely happy with that arrangement, but it gets them out of the water, doesn't it? What’s bruised pride to being crushed?

Soon as the other Jaegers are clear they let go, taking a slight bash for their trouble as the Cat-IV struggles away yet again. Chuck can feel the ache in her arms with the horrible certainty that she’s going to be sore in the morning. Well, they both will be.

_Then we ought to finish this quick, don't we?_

They share a look even as the ever unhelpful thought shifts in her mind. But right here and now she’s honestly more bothered about ending this fight than that stupid missile launcher. Even if she’s sure there’s an underlying amusement to his thoughts. _Don’t go there._

‘Engaging AK missiles.'

Like Horizon's cryo blast this requires a specific pose, because of course the weapon has to be motion activated, of course. But embarrassment’s counteractive to the Drift and there’s more important things than her dignity at stake here, so Chuck pulls her arms back and sucks it up. Here’s hoping these damn missiles work the way they’re supposed to, seeing as they’ve yet to test them on a live subject.

Targeting’s easy enough, especially seeing as Nammu's even slower thanks to that shot of plasma to its innards, and she does have to admit that it’s a satisfying feeling when the volley of K-Stunners connect. Each missile bores into the Kaiju’s flesh before detonating, almost like blowing it apart from the inside. Nice and efficient. The force of the explosions drive the nightmare caterpillar onto its side, writhing, hopefully in pain. It’s still not quite dead, though. Seriously? How tough is this thing?

_Give it a minute._

They don't get that minute, however, as Gipsy Danger decides that this is the moment to step back up and unload its second plasmacaster into the dying Kaiju’s brain. Repeatedly.

What. The. Hell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the timeline's ended up being a little bit different here. This initially came about because of all those contradictory dates bandied around by the novelisation and honestly, once the idea was in my head it was too good to pass up the chance to have Gipsy and her pilots show up a little earlier. By which I mean to say, butterfly effect.
> 
> As always, thanks for stopping by. Next stop, the aftermath.


	25. To The Victors

_You fucking wankers._

Fuelled by furious instinct, Chuck throws her weight forward, thinking of nothing other than the fact that she wants to punch the lights out of that Mark-3. But the rig’s less than cooperative, holding fast against her very solitary attempts at movement. Even if she swears there’s the slightest jerk of response at first, Striker simply won't budge as Herc digs his heels in.

 _Oh, come on._ She knows he saw that, and it's painfully obvious how deliberate the move was.

 _No._ His steadfast restraint clashes with her indignant rage. 

Before this they’ve always stayed on the same wavelength in the Drift but now their wills are pushing against each other, harmony beginning to break. It’s unpleasant, disconcerting, and cuts through her blind anger more effectively than any words could. Because at the end of it all he’s not the one she’s pissed off with, not by a long shot.

From the sounds of it those few moments of discord affected him just as much as they did her, a slight strain clear in his voice. ‘It’s done.'

He’s right, of course, there’s nothing she can actually do to change what just happened. Nammu's stopped even twitching, its brain undeniably turned to mush by those rounds of hot plasma. So this kill officially goes to Gipsy Danger, all on account of a cheating, underhanded technicality. 

Too late to do anything about it now, though, and yeah, so maybe attacking the other Jaeger would not be a good idea. About as far away from good as possible, really. Don't want it to look like she can't handle the pressure, or give people more reason to suggest she shouldn't be here.

But even as all that runs through her mind and the urge for action begins to fade, the frustration itself doesn’t get any duller. Her earlier buzz is completely gone now, thoughts rapidly souring. If she hadn’t hesitated it would’ve been in the bag before those fucking glory-hogs had a chance to get anywhere near it. It’s their fault but it's still just as much hers. Her failure.

_Shit_

‘Striker, come in.’ Nico sounds almost worried, as if he's already said it once. 'You two all good?'

It’s only when Herc switches the comms back on to answer that she realises he’d killed them in the first place. Wise precaution, really. 'As good as can be, LOCCENT.’

The Controller makes a sympathetic noise, because of course he knows all too well what had happened there. Which is a whole lot more than they'd get from Bauer. ‘Yeah, that was some seriously bad form on their part, butting in right after your finisher like that. Next time, huh?'

‘Damn right.’ Chuck’s not sure either of them hears her low snarl, still busy glaring at Gipsy as the other Jaeger walks away from their kill and only half-paying attention.

‘That’s the spirit.’ It's that encouraging, kind of patronising tone again, as Nico jumps quickly on the first suggestion of a bright side. But he's only trying to make her feel better, really, even if she can't just put it so easily to one side. 'I don't think anyone can argue that you didn't debut well.'

What battle had he been watching? Chuck can see plenty of room for argument still, seeing as they hadn't gotten the kill. It'll be defined as an assist at best now so there's still perfectly viable ground to question their level of success. After all, there are some people even a five-minute solo kill wouldn't have satisfied.

 _So screw 'em._ Herc's giving her one of those looks, his disagreement with the increasingly grim direction of her thoughts perfectly clear. His focus doesn't stray off her even as he answers. 'Anyone who does doesn't have the first clue what they're talking about.'

'Precisely.' After a conspicuous sort of delay, in which he probably made eye contact with the wrong person, Nico quickly amends himself. 'Just don't say that to any journos, yeah?'

He rolls his eyes, they all know that if anyone needs to be reminded of that it's not him. 'I know the drill.'

'Try not to forget it then, you need to be setting a good example for the kid.'

Really? How many more times are they going to have to go through this? 'Fuck's sake-'

'See? Terrible influence.' Nico laughs, though it's not unkind and takes some of the sting off. 'Anyway, you've been hooked up long enough for one day, I think. We'll get Striker taken care of, so both of you can have a relax now. Enjoy your night off and we'll debrief properly when you get back tomorrow.'

‘Copy that, LOCCENT, see you then.' Promptly shutting the comms off again, Herc's clearly glad to leave it at that for one day.

Much as she really didn’t want to have to endure that return flight Chuck isn’t entirely keen on the idea of being stuck out here in Manila either. Not if those kill-stealing wankers are going to be in the same building, which they probably are. No. She is _not_ playing nice with those bastards, not after this. Honestly, she feels like as soon as she gets out of the Conn-Pod she’s going to punch the first person that looks at her the wrong way.

Still, she's equally not sure how much longer she can handle being stuck in this Drivesuit. And, much as it comforts her, it's hard work sharing headspace like this for so long, needing to keep her guard up constantly.

As soon as the neural handshake breaks she wrenches off the helmet, only narrowly resisting the urge to fling it across the Conn-Pod. Don’t want to damage it, that’d just make a bad situation worse. Still, she’s just so pissed off. At herself, at the Beckets, at everything. She’d needed that kill. Even now she’s still torn between crying and punching the nearest wall, or both, and this horrible feeling of _emptiness_ in her head isn’t helping one bit. Hard to tell whether her shaking’s from emotion or just the withdrawal. Weak.

Although there's still enough of an echo of the Drift hanging around to carry the thought Herc says it out loud, just to make sure she's definitely heard. 'Sometimes these things happen, it's no reflection on you.'

Her response is a vague grunt, too busy extricating herself from the rig and not in the mood to be placated like that. It’ll be weeks, maybe even months, before she gets another shot at a Kaiju. This just wasn’t fair. She’d had to fight so much harder to get to this point, whereas those assholes had probably just swanned straight into the Academy and the more she thinks about it the more she hates them.

'Hey, listen to me.' A grounding hand lands on her shoulder, effective even though the touch itself is all but imperceptible through the thickness of the Drivesuit. ‘You were great.'

 _Not enough._ Chuck averts her eyes, because she could’ve done so much better. _Should_ have. If she hadn’t screwed up with that goddamn memory...

Herc shakes his head, stepping just a little closer and reaching up to skim his fingers across her cheek, brushing away a loose strand of hair. ‘Everyone has triggers. You couldn’t have anticipated that happening and you pulled it back.'

‘Only because you made me.’ She mutters it, even though she's leaning very conspicuously into the touch and trying to keep her thoughts from screaming too loudly for more.

'C'mon, don't beat yourself up.' All too aware of what's going on in her head, he coaxes her chin up so that she understands the earnestness of what he's saying. 'We're in this together, remember?'

It's hard to disagree out loud, much as she wants to keep on arguing. Even though she didn't screw up _completely_ he still could've done better without her, couldn't he? Without her messing up the Beckets wouldn't have had the chance to steal that kill, so it's completely on her really. Which isn't even getting into the other reasons he'd be better off with someone else.

That's the sort of thing he won't leave unchallenged, not when he can still feel it so clearly, but there's a heavy and insistent knock on the hatch before he gets the chance. Seems like their ride to shore's already here, operation running as efficiently as ever. So Chuck can pull away without feeling guilty, much as she doesn't entirely want to, able to escape his reassurance for at least a little longer. It doesn't matter what he says right now, she's still so fucking disappointed with herself.

-

Seeing as they don’t have any proper facilities here in Manila, and only limited assistance on hand, they end up having to strip back down in one of the hotel's meeting rooms. Thankfully there's no windows, just the two of them and a couple of techs who get the gear safely packed away for transport back to the Dome. Takes a little longer than normal this way, which doesn’t entirely improve her mood. And she pointedly avoids looking at her dad the whole time, because with the level of hangover they’ve got that seems like a seriously bad idea.

As soon as they’re alone again he’s inevitably going to make her deal with all this properly but for now Chuck is safe to indulge in her unhappy thoughts. Which is maybe why she tries to drag it out a little longer, so that she's only just down to her circuitry suit when he’s already half dressed. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to send a change of clothes with them in the first place. But as she's finally slipping off the last piece of armour she hears voices in the corridor outside. Her head snaps up as she recognises that stupid American accent and before anyone can even think about stopping her she's out the door.

‘Oi! You fucking pricks!'

With the sort of seamless coordination that only comes from Drifting the Beckets turn back as one, and at least they aren't enough up themselves to try ignoring her. Though she thinks there might be something less than intimidated in the looks she receives, and that just gets her more annoyed. They have no idea who they’ve messed with and she’s damn well going to set them straight. The only reason Chuck stops short of lunging right away is that she isn’t quite sure who to go for first.

‘What the fuck was that out there? We _had_ that kill!'

An unreadable look passes between the Americans, one that feels too much like ridicule for her liking, before Raleigh shrugs; ‘It was still moving-'

‘Bullshit!’ Well, at least she knows who’s getting it first now. 'It was fucking _twitching_ , you son of a-'

Before she gets the chance to follow through and knee him where it hurts like she really, _really_ wants to, though, a very solid arm wraps around her waist and pulls her back. For a moment her mind goes blank because, oh, that’s _good_.

But _no_ , she’s too pissed off to be going all cuddly and pliant right now. Especially not here. Unfortunately, her efforts to struggle free don't really get her anywhere, seeing as Herc's still a lot stronger than she is. That and he got too good a grip on her to start with.

‘That was some nice work out there.’ He says it calmly, as if they aren’t in the middle of something here, and it’s enough to make her round incredulously on him. Which was probably not a good idea considering that it only brings her right up against his chest and lets him secure his hold further. 

‘ _Nice?_ ’ Not the word she’d use. At all.

Seeming to take his cue from the older Ranger, Yancy chooses to act as if that this little scene isn't unfolding as it is. ‘You too. That Mark-5’s an impressive machine.'

The placating approach almost might've worked if it wasn't for his brother feeling the need to promptly add; ‘Yeah, you know it wasn’t anything personal-'

Even if Herc wasn’t so in tune with her thoughts he still probably would’ve anticipated her renewed attempt to get at the offending Ranger. Because it damn well _was_ personal, and that wanker has no idea what this _meant_ to her. She’s spent months trying to prove she's good enough, only to get knocked down at the last hurdle by some arrogant asshole with more kills than he needs and who then has the nerve to say that sort of hollow shit.

But while Chuck still doesn’t get in the shot she wanted, and is being bodily restrained in a way that's no less embarrassing, that doesn’t stop her hissing; ‘If you _ever_ get in my way again-'

‘That’s enough.’ Herc growls it lowly, because apparently they’re not on the same side here, tightening his grip in warning. ‘You need to finish getting changed.'

Finish-?

Oh. Shit. Unlike anyone else in this corridor she’s still in her circuitry suit, in nothing _but_ her circuitry suit, and it’s like a cold bucket of water down her spine. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t coming across as particularly intimidating, seeing as the form-hugging material doesn’t do anything to disguise the fact that she’s a kind of scrawny sixteen-year-old. At least the Drivesuit bulks her up a bit, though hell, practically anything would’ve been better than this.

Still, first she should really- Chuck makes the mistake of making eye contact with him, and even if she hadn’t the threat would’ve come through loud and clear. _Don’t make me carry you._

This is a battle she wouldn't ever win, even if she wasn't under the major handicap of being pressed up against him still. It's so hard to keep this fight up when she can feel him willing her to calm down and her instincts are helpfully insisting that she needs to be climbing all over him, stat. But, damn it, she wants people to understand that she is not some weak little girl who can just be walked all over. She hates going soft like this anyway, it just makes it all worse, and it’s not like she even really deserves it after today anyway, is it?

‘Whatever.’ Stepping back, narrowing her eyes at the offenders, she lets it go, for now. ‘Not worth my fucking time anyway.'

Because he doesn’t entirely trust her not to try it again - rightly so - Herc keeps a guiding hand on her back. Still acting as if nothing's out of the ordinary, he calls over his shoulder; ‘Good to meet you.'

‘Same.'

Chuck’s pleased to note that they don’t exactly stick around, but she still wishes she’d gotten in just one hit before he’d pulled her away. Just to make sure they got the message, you know, so they don't try to pull a stunt like that again. But she wasted her opportunity and he closes the door behind them, giving her a light push towards a none-too-happy tech as he stays behind to guard the exit. And shit, she instantly misses him again.

Although she doesn’t appreciate the reprimanding look that the tech directs at her she doesn't waste any time in peeling the suit off. It’s not meant to be worn on its own, after all, and definitely not for running around trying to get into fights. But it’s not like she’d particularly planned that, is it?

Doesn’t help that she’s keenly aware of the fact that she’s being watched, or the way her hands are still less than steady. As soon as Chuck’s finally handed it over to the waiting tech she scrambles to pull something else on, it’s a lot harder to be clinical about being in just her underwear when they’re not in the Drivesuit Room itself. Especially when she’s still so damn attuned to him.

Shit, she’s such a mess.

Having finally gotten what they were here for, the techs don't waste much time in clearing out, quite ready to clock off and hit the town. After all, techs don't get as much guaranteed travel as Rangers, they want to make the most of it. 

As soon as they're gone Herc appears almost instantly at her side again. Predictable. But when he gives her a tug she can’t resist. Just like that the turmoil in her head calms, the nagging sense of loneliness abating as she presses closer with a small whine of contentment.

‘Better?'

Burrowing into his side, she nods. As if it isn't obvious from the way the tension rapidly bleeds out of her, now that she’s got what her instincts have been screaming out for ever since the handshake broke. So maybe trying to ignore this after such a long Drift was a little stupid, it’s just scary how good this feels and how much more it makes her want.

‘Sorry.' Chuck's apologising for so much more than just what had happened out there, hating herself for giving in to this when she hasn't done anything to earn it.

'It's okay.' He says it and she doesn't doubt him for a second. 'I know this meant a lot to you, sweetheart, but you didn't fail or let me down. It doesn't matter what the record says, this one was ours.'

Screwing her eyes shut, she tries to ignore the way they're starting to sting. It always ends up doing this to her, being made to feel this secure and loved in spite of everything. Can't entirely blame the Drift for making her so vulnerable to it either. He manages to break through her barriers so effortlessly sometimes, it's terrifying.

Even though he must know that she's crying Herc is considerate enough to not call her on it. Despite the fact that it's definitely not the most comfortable position he's ended up in, he doesn't complain at all about having a quivering state of a teenager half on top of him. Instead, he just holds her tighter, rubs up and down her spine and lets her get it out.

All too easily losing track of time, Chuck has no idea how long it ends up taking for the emotions to work their way through her system. All she knows is that eventually her breathing evens back out and some of the pressure goes with it. While she's nowhere near over today she does feel a lot better than she had, and thank god she has him.

Adjusting herself so that he's at least a little comfier she noses at his collar, a silent thank you. ‘Still think you should’ve let me punch ‘em.'

Herc can't quite hide his amusement, even though he really ought to be reiterating disapproval of her violent impulses. Restraint aside, that move had annoyed him too, not least because of how much it'd upset her. Still, he needs to at least try and set a good example, doesn't he? 'Not sure that's a reputation you should be trying to develop.'

'Better than the one I already have.' Which she has to admit would be so much worse if anyone else could see the way she's cuddling up to him like an overenthusiastic koala. 

‘Oh really?’ A teasing edge enters Herc's voice, his mood lightening now that he's sure she's coming back around. ‘You don’t seem to have any problem with it at the moment.'

‘Shut up.’ It’s a shame she doesn’t entirely have the energy or the will to pull away right now, because just whacking him in the arm like she does only seems like a half-hearted counter. Although, yeah, it's just disagreement for the sake of it and they both know it.

-

All too soon, though, they get banished to the hotel bar, slightly spoiling her mood all over again. Admittedly, Herc does keep an arm draped along the back of the bench, but that’s the most either of them is really keen to indulge in when they’re not alone. Even if, though loath to admit it, Chuck could’ve done with a good while longer to monopolise him.

But no, they have to be _social_. Or at least pretend to be. Because the Rangers are the ‘ambassadors of the Corps’ or some PR bullshit like that, and it’d be bad form not to put in some sort of public appearance before disappearing for some actual rest. Still, what with Manila being a couple of time zones behind Sydney at least there’s a ready excuse to call it a night relatively early.

Not that anybody’d really have noticed if they slipped off, other than Horizon’s pilots. And honestly, it’s a question whether those two are really paying attention to anything outside of the tabletop and each other. Neither Lo Hin nor Xichi have said more than a few syllables since they arrived, having stationed themselves at the far corner of the table and proceeded to spend the evening introspecting with the help of the occasional swig of strong booze. Which is fair enough really.

On the other hand, equally unsurprisingly, the Beckets are busy off revelling in the centre of attention. While there’s a bit of discrete security on the hotel doors to keep out any particularly problematic Flies or Kaiju cultists who feel the need to stop by they’ve accumulated their own little crowd of groupies, apparently in the middle of retelling the no doubt enthralling story of one of their other kills. The one real benefit of that, however, is that their story-time has acted as a magnet for anyone interested. Because if anything could make this evening worse it’d be someone trying it on with her dad.

What could make it at least a bit better, on the other hand, would be a drink. Of course, even though she just helped to defend this city from a Cat-IV, her stupid age means they won’t let her have anything much stronger than water. So, having waited patiently for an opportune moment, she goes to swipe Herc’s, only for him to easily whip it out of the way. Damned Drift hangover.

‘Come on, please?’ Chuck’s at the point where she doesn’t mind being a little shameless, because if she can’t have what she really wants then surely this shouldn’t be too much to ask. Unfortunately, she’s too used to having to just go around other people and get stuff for herself, so her pleading routine is kind of rusty.

‘Afraid not.’ He doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic about it.

‘Nobody’ll know.’ Even though she’s well aware that this is a losing argument she can’t quite give up yet, sliding closer. ‘Just a quick one.'

Though he looks deliberately away, the faintest waver of resolve in his expression, it doesn’t work. ‘Answer’s still no.'

Well, it was always worth a shot, wasn't it? Still, unable to just call it a night like she wants, Chuck has to make do with sitting back with a heavy sigh and staring at the ceiling some more. It’s not like anyone’s even paying attention.

Which is probably why he feels comfortable enough to lean right back in and murmur into her ear. ‘Tell you what, five more minutes and then we’ll go. Okay?'

‘Okay.’ She’d rather go now, but beggars can’t be choosers. Need to be able to say they’d given it a fair shake before bailing after all. And honestly, as much as she wants to be alone with him, she’s just slightly worried that this clingy urge of hers is going to make her do something stupid. Especially when he doesn’t help matters by doing stuff like that.

So, it’s with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation that she settles back, closing her eyes and starting to count off the seconds. Today’s drained her more than she’d like to admit, all the emotions on top of that long Drift. Maybe it’s a sign of weakness, but right now is one of those times she doesn’t really care about that. And hey, unless this hotel’s got a shitty sense of humour there'll be no bunk beds tonight.

‘Hello again.’

Cracking an eye open, she confirms that it’s Becket number one who's decided to grace them with his presence. Of the pair, Yancy seems to be the less objectionable, probably by virtue of being the older brother, and not quite so quick to put his foot in it. Still, that doesn’t stop her frowning at him, this isn’t something she’s going to just forgive and forget any time soon.

‘Enjoying your evening?’ Herc smiles back, pleasant enough. If he’s anywhere near as bothered by what happened as she is then he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.

‘Yeah, it’s not one of our wilder ones.’ Yancy shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck almost awkwardly. ‘Look, about earlier, we didn’t mean to step on your toes.'

‘What’s done’s done.’ Even though he delivers the words with a dismissive gesture there's just the slightest hint of annoyance to them. ‘Isn’t that right?'

The question’s accompanied by a pointed bump against her leg, making it clear that he expects her to not completely ignore the other Ranger. All in this together or whatever. ‘Sure.'

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be catching us up soon enough, a tight team like you.’ With that parting shot he wisely wanders back off to rejoin his brother and admirers, conscience apparently eased.

Damn right they will, that Mark-3’s going to be left in the dust.

Finishing his beer in one, Herc gets to his feet a moment later, even though she only makes it three minutes and forty seconds. ‘C’mon, bed.'

Him saying that shouldn't go to her head nearly as much as it does, but he’s letting her get out of here and she is just too far gone on him. The hangover doesn't help even remotely. So when he offers her a hand up Chuck takes it without argument, even if she makes sure to let go as fast as possible. Appearances, restraint and all that. 

Horizon's pilots shoot them a nod of acknowledgement, Xichi even manages a brief smile before turning back to her co-pilot and their brooding. Not for the first time she wonders quite how bad the damage to the Mark-1 actually was. That Cat-IV had been a heavy bugger and they're going to want to make sure that the reactor's not been at all compromised. But it wasn't totalled, Horizon Brave and its crew will fight another day. They hadn't failed them, focus on the positives.

For some reason there’s a bunch of palm trees in the lobby, and that’s about it as far as signs of life go right about now. If any more Flies are hanging around they aren’t in here, something for which she is incredibly grateful. Still, it’s not until the doors of the lift slide shut that Herc slips an arm back around her shoulders, his restraint's far better than hers.

Though he seriously tests her when he does the low seductive thing with his voice; ‘There, that wasn't so bad.'

She just gives him an affirmative sort of noise, distracted all over again. At least there hadn’t been any need to deal with the press just yet, though Chuck isn’t stupid enough to think that they’re going to be able to get away without any of that for long. The PPDC are going to want to push the Mark-5 angle after this, seeing as there’s still no signs of anybody else signing up for the next one. That and they’ll want to counteract all that earlier shit she’d caused just by being here.

‘Tired?'

'Long day.’ Even though his Drift record's definitely longer today was far and away hers. The different time zone’s fucking up her body clock too, along with the fact that he’s so damn warm.

Seeming to understand that, he just gives her another squeeze and lets her enjoy a few more moments of the shameless contact. Once the door of the lift opens on their floor he doesn’t let go as she expects, apparently worried that she’s too worn out to get herself to their room on her own. Not that she's complaining, this time.

Naturally they’re still sharing, because apparently that’s standard practice even when Jaeger teams are off-base. That must annoy some of them, who she imagines probably want to take advantage of being away from the Dome and have a little more space of their own. She's quite happy with the arrangement, really, it means she doesn't have to get all kinds of worried as to whether he's... Even so, she does wonder just how much he would rather not have to constantly share with her. It's not like he has these insane feelings to nurse. But, then again, he's still protective enough to not want her out of his sight for too long. And god, that turns her on more than it should.

Whatever else can be said about this place it's got some nice looking beds, which are such an upgrade from their normal bunks it's a little ridiculous. Completely separate too, so a lot less worry about disturbing him in the unlikely event that she has a restless night. Max would love it, he's a total sucker for squishy mattresses. Maybe next time she'll have to smuggle him onto a Jumphawk. She has a bad feeling that he'll be pining, because while he's gotten over needing to follow her everywhere it's not yet been for more than a couple of hours at a time.

Knowing that it's better not to worry, and feeling increasingly drained, Chuck goes ahead and throws herself down on the nearest bed. Which turns out to be just as good as it'd looked, turning her satisfied sigh into more of a happy moan. Now why can't the Shatterdome get hold of beds like this?

'If you sleep in your clothes you'll regret it.'

Admittedly, he does have a point, especially considering that she's still got her boots on. But getting changed requires effort and, she abruptly realises, it's not like she'd had a chance to pack her pyjamas before jumping in the Conn-Pod. So while, yeah, the shoes can definitely go, she doesn't have all that much option about staying dressed.

Not sure whether he's noticed that little issue, and less than keen to bring it up, Chuck doesn't bother to move just yet. Rather than making her feel less tired lying down only seems to be sapping her energy faster. ‘'m fine.'

While he sighs Herc doesn’t argue it further. Instead, he just carries on getting ready for bed like maybe that’ll give her the idea. Except she’s more than content to just lie here and listen to him moving around the room, half-wondering why he isn’t a little more worn out. Even though he’s got so much more experience she still would’ve expected this to rub off on him just a bit, seeing how hard it’s hitting her. She also pointedly doesn’t think about what this means _he’ll_ be sleeping in.

In fact, she’s so pointedly not thinking about it that she jumps when the mattress shifts and a hand presses against her back. By all rights he shouldn’t be able to sneak up on her when the hangover’s still there.

‘C’mon, move.’ Might be a more convincing order if he wasn’t being so gentle about it.

‘No.’ Rather than doing the sensible thing and shifting away, Chuck instead edges a little closer to him. If he could just stay put, or better yet join her properly, this'd be pretty much perfect.

Apparently not on the same wavelength right now, Herc gives her another prod. 'Do I have to do it for you?'

Much as she likes the sound of that she still has enough dignity to heed the warning, that's dangerous ground to be going near. With a new-found burst of energy, she shrugs his touch off and pushes herself into a semi-sitting position. ‘Fine.'

Once she’s got rid of the offending footwear and shrugged out of her jacket she goes straight back to her original position. Because threat or no threat there’s no way she’s going to get any less dressed while he’s sitting right there, this isn't like changing out of the Drivesuit. Maybe she can get out of her bra later, when the lights are out and she’s under the covers, but until then she’s just going to have to live with it.

Apparently he figures as much, doing the exact opposite of what she wants and getting up. ‘I’ll give you some privacy then.'

Before she can figure out a way to object that isn’t horrendously obvious he’s already disappeared into the bathroom. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him or cares about him seeing, the problem’s basically the exact opposite of that. Still, with a frustrated growl, Chuck gets up to shed most of her remaining clothes, might as well take the opportunity anyway. Slightly less chance of doing something insanely idiotic that way.

Down to just her t-shirt and briefs, she gives the hem a futile tug as if there’s any way to make it cover anything more. It’s not nearly baggy enough to have that sort of give, though, so she just looks ridiculous. Grumbling to herself, she tidies up her discarded clothes and pulls back the covers, because at least then they can avoid any more potential awkwardness.

Admittedly it’s better burrowing under the sheets, even if there’s still that yearning for closeness that won’t let her relax completely. She just _needs_ him. Stupid damn side-effects, so fucking hopeless. But still, shouldn’t she really be taking advantage of these moments, to have what she otherwise couldn't? Because she can always blame anything too daring on the aftereffects, he doesn’t have to know that it means anything else, does he?

Having given her twice as long as she needed, Herc finally returns from his exile in the bathroom, and she instantly decides that it was worth the wait. Although the dim level of light in the room means that she doesn't get quite as good a look as she'd have liked, it does help to hide quite how hard it is that she's staring at him. In spite of his earlier concession to modesty he's gone right ahead and shed everything but his underwear, and damn if she doesn't almost combust on the spot.

Before he can make it to the safety of the other bed, Chuck shifts, not sure that she’s going to go through with it until she actually does. ‘Dad?'

It stops him in his tracks, his response nowhere near so hesitant. ‘Yeah?'

If this were any other time she wouldn’t follow it up, mouth going abruptly dry as she struggles to find the right words to ask this. ‘C’mere? Please?'

As soon as it's out she’s sure he isn’t going to, it's too needy and honestly, what was she even thinking? Fuck, she's pathetic. Is it too late to disappear under the covers and pretend that she hadn’t meant to say that?

While she's considering the best form of damage control, Herc saves her some of the trouble and takes a seat next to her. Oh, that was easy. ‘This one really hit you hard, didn't it?'

Kind of a redundant question all things considered, isn’t it? Rather than bothering to reply out loud, Chuck just focuses on wrapping herself around him as best she can. Might as well be shameless now that she’s gone and asked, after all. Though maybe it’d be easier if he wasn’t perched on the edge of the mattress like this.

‘Get in?’ Not going as far as actually demanding, she does punctuate the question with a hopefully convincing nuzzle.

He’s resistant to the idea, she can feel it in the way he tenses even though it doesn’t make him stop stroking her back. But it’s not that weird. Sure, she’s not wearing all that much but it’s not like he hasn’t seen her in less. All she’s asking for is some more harmless contact, and it’s not like they hadn’t technically shared a bed that one time in the Academy.

Still, maybe she shouldn’t be pushing this. Not like-

It shouldn't surprise her nearly as much as it does when he pulls away. And while Chuck’s immediate instinct is to not let him she’s enough in control to resist that. Don’t want to look any more pathetically stupid than she already does. It’s fine. He shouldn’t have to put up with her and this ridiculous clinginess anyway. 

Aggressively pushing down on the abject feeling of rejection, she doesn't waste any time in turning over and sliding away, because making a big deal of it’ll only make it worse. It's nothing, just pretend it’s nothing, go to sleep. The light flicks out with an awful sort of finality and she just hopes they can forget about this in the morning. Fucking _idiot_ , it's like she can't do anything right today.

That particular spiral of negative thought gets promptly nipped in the bud, however, by an insistent tug on the sheets. A moment later the bed dips again and then there's a wonderfully warm body next to her. Shit, this was a horrendously amazing idea.

Her heart almost stops when he wraps an arm around her waist, closing the gap to almost nothing. 'Okay?'

Seeing as her voice has apparently disappeared completely the best she can do is a small but decisive nod. Well, that and quickly turning over to properly appreciate this opportunity. Her better judgement left the room a good few minutes ago so why the hell not? 

It may be almost pitch black but thanks to dozens of stolen glances in the Drivesuit Room and her very active imagination Chuck knows his body more than well enough. Still, it's a whole other experience to be running a tentative hand over his bare skin, because this is _real_.

The intensity of the moment seems to be affecting him almost as much as her. It's like he's holding his breath, leaning into it and waiting to see quite where she's going with this. Chuck doesn't risk looking up, not sure she can handle eye contact, it could so easily break this fragile thing that's unfolding between them. But as her touch ghosts lower across his chest he tangibly shivers.

Instantly she stops, blush creeping into her cheeks as she prepares to rapidly scoot over the other side of the mattress and onto the floor in shame.

'No, that's good.' There's something in the rougher tone of his voice that she can't quite identify, although there's no mistaking the encouraging little squeeze he gives her waist.

Probably just the Drift hangover, her own exaggerated need for touch rubbing off on him. But for now she can pretend that maybe it's more than that, taking the permission to trace her fingers over one of the circuit burns that runs down his side. Much as the exhilaration of this all sets her senses on fire it's still incredibly calming. In spite of herself it's not long before the toll of the day starts to pull her under.

And, as reality starts to blend back into dreams, she can't be sure if she imagines the feel of his lips on her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the right kind of hangover, methinks.
> 
> I'm posting this one on the move so apologies if there's any formatting whoopsies. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, for stopping by.


	26. Behind Closed Doors

Sleeping is such a hazard. Because with sleeping comes dreaming, and then, inevitably, waking up. She’s not sure if it’s the longer Drift or just the fact that they’re sharing a bed in a rather advanced stage of undress, but tonight is one of _those_ nights. And like hell if she doesn’t think the dreams are still somehow managing to get even steamier with time. Honestly, Chuck isn’t quite sure where her mind gets this stuff from, but damn it’s _good_.

So much better than the nightmares she’d been preparing herself for, because after that moment with the rabbit she’d been certain that old staple would be showing up in her subconscious all over again. No, instead she gets _this_. Pushing him down against the bed, taking her time to touch and kiss as much as she wants. Trailing lower and enjoying the feel of his hand twisting in her hair as she explores all the gorgeous noises he makes when she-

Reluctantly, she opens her eyes to find that the room's in that state of greyish half-darkness that comes just before dawn. Which is far too early, and why does she always have to wake up right at the best bit?

Dreams. Fucking dreams. At least this time she doesn’t have to deal with waking up lonely. And maybe she should feel a lot worse for this than she does, but that doesn’t stop her snuggling just that little bit closer. He makes an excellent pillow, really, and Chuck’s just too drowsy to do anything else right now. That and it’d be wrong, touching him up while he’s still asleep. She’s not completely cracked. Yet.

If she has to wake up this is definitely the way to do it, though, lying half on top of him with an arm still wrapped around her waist. The need for physical contact isn’t pressing on her brain quite so hard anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s any less inclined to enjoy this for all it’s worth. When’s the next chance she’s going to get? Who knows. She can’t help hoping that he'd enjoyed this as much as she did, that maybe he’ll even suggest bunking together again. Because, as terrible an idea as that would be, she could never resist him asking.

But, before she has a chance to do anything more than adjust herself a bit, Herc shifts. He makes this ludicrously attractive groan that goes straight to her head, his hold on her instinctively tightening. Clearly, he’s not fully awake just yet, so Chuck has high hopes of being able to hold onto this for at least a little longer. Right up until it abruptly comes to her attention that he is very definitely hard.

Oh.

Well, that certainly sets her mind racing, and she is just wide awake now. Way to feed her imagination. If she moves, though, it’ll probably tip him off and oh fuck, this could end up being so horribly awkward, couldn’t it?

_Or…_

Rather than following that train of thought through and deciding to do something incredibly stupid, however, she ends up unintentionally flinching when he shifts again and their hips get pressed together in a very good, bad, good way. Which is probably the right thing for her to do here, but not what she’d wanted at all. Alerted to the reality of the situation, suddenly remembering just who it is that he happens to be sharing the bed with, Herc abruptly puts even more distance between them.

‘Damn.’ At least he only sounds embarrassed rather than disgusted. Though that’s possibly more due to the fact that he’s still not entirely woken up at this point. ’Sorry, bladder.'

Ah. Right. So that’s why. Even though Chuck has to admit that she’s a little disappointed that it’s nothing to do with her, she’s still relieved that he might not have been thinking of anyone else either.

Hoping that she isn’t blushing, she nods hurriedly and wastes not time untangling herself from him. There goes that then. Rather than giving into temptation and staring - because those boxers aren't hiding all that much - she turns over and pulls the sheets with her. Pretend it's not a big deal. It shouldn’t be, should it? Just waking up next to him and unintentionally rubbing herself against his hard-on.

Chuck hears the bathroom door close, despite him clearly trying to do it gently, and can't quite resist a groan of dissatisfaction. She could've happily stayed like that all morning, and now that he doesn't have to worry about helping her with the hangover he'll probably go back to the other bed instead. But _fuck_. If it weren't for the fact that it'd inevitably smell like him she'd be tempted to ram one of the pillows against her face, hard. This just keeps on getting worse and she is in far too deep already. So deep she honestly wonders whether she could've gotten away with a bit more grinding if she'd just pretended to still be asleep. Which is a horrendous thing to even _consider_.

What's worse is the way she can't not think about him in the other room, wishing she could just get one good look to properly finish the picture. That fucking body. If there was ever any question that she's going to hell this clinches it, huddling up in the soft sheets and trying her best to ignore how damn horny this has gone and made her.

Because it seems to take him a while in there, though, she's started to cool down by the time she hears the toilet flush. Course, him being back in the room only sets her on alert again, staying still and waiting. If he thinks she’s gone back to sleep that won’t influence him. Stupid, maybe, but she’s curious. And this way she can avoid being desperate and trying to lure him back into bed with her.

While she hears a distinctive, if quiet sigh there’s no real hesitation in his choice, and she’s all too happy to dissolve her pity cocoon in order to snuggle right back up to him. No prompting, he came back all of his own free will, even after that awkward situation. Which just gives her too many ideas, soon her mind's going to be nothing but these really inadvisable fantasies.

Especially when he follows it up by doing stuff like this, pressing the length of their bodies together like it's the most natural thing in the world - _it is_ \- and running a hand lazily along her side. Made so much worse - better - by how hot his breath is against her ear, using that low voice that ties her up in knots. 'How're you feeling?'

Honest answer? Seriously turned on. Non-life-ruining answer? 'Better.'

'Good.' His hand skims just under the hem of her t-shirt and either he has the worst sense of humour or not the first clue about what he does to her.

Still, just because it doesn’t mean what she wants it to doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy it and cuddle closer. As far as he knows she could still really be half-asleep right now, there’s nothing to say that she’s doing this for impure reasons. After all, she shows restraint, not even trying to touch certain off-limit areas, making do with pressing her face against his neck and just breathing.

Because the world hates her, though, rather than giving in to more sleep, or something better, all too soon Herc gives her another squeeze. ‘Afraid we probably need to get up soon, sweetheart.'

‘ _Sh._ ’ Unless he feels like doing something nice and seductive with his voice she doesn’t want to hear it. Not least because anything he says now is almost inevitably going to be about getting up and leaving this really nice bed. 'Relax.'

Though she has the feeling he wants to say something more to that he doesn't, wisely. Having to argue it kind of undermines the point, after all. And honestly, they've earned the right to a lie-in, seeing as there's no threat of a Kaiju alarm going off and disturbing things. Need to appreciate the quiet while they can.

But though she wins for the moment it's only delaying the inevitable. Neither of them really needs to go back to sleep and she supposes there's only so long he can put up with having to indulge her like this. Especially since it’s driving her ever so slightly insane, even without the Drift hangover wreaking havoc with her inhibitions. Taking the opportunity to memorise the way their bodies fit together for future reference, she manages to contain herself for a while, until eventually the intoxicating intimacy of the position has her giving in to the urge to totally not deliberately rub a bare leg against his. There's this split second where Chuck really thinks he's going to respond to it but it's just in her head.

His voice may have gone all nice and husky but it's still the same unwelcome order, accompanied by an equally dissatisfactory attempt to extricate himself. 'C'mon, time’s up.'

He's right, of course, much as she hates to admit it. Her restraint's only getting weaker and she's already gotten more than she has any right to. Best to let it go before she spoils it by doing something too blatant. That doesn’t mean she has to be amazingly graceful about it, though. 'Don't tell me you need to piss again?'

Without warning, before she has a chance to even consider regretting the comment, he gives her ass a smack.

Caught off guard, Chuck yelps, instinctively rolling herself out of range of any further retribution. Fortunately the bed’s wide enough that she doesn't end up planting herself embarrassingly on the floor in the process, because seriously? That is _not_ playing fair. That isn’t even in the same ballpark as fairness. She gets that he was making a point but it doesn’t stop her levelling an unimpressed glare at him, not least because she kind of wants him to try that again.

Entirely unrepentant, Herc has the nerve to look innocent. Like that was a completely normal thing to do. ’Think it’s your turn in the bathroom, isn’t it?'

Okay, maybe the toilet comment wasn't the wisest but _still_. She's not sure how long she can survive if this is the sort of direction things end up taking. 'Alright, alright, bastard.'

With a little less reluctance than she might otherwise have had, she rubs the slightly sore spot and slides herself delicately off the mattress. It might just be her overactive imagination but she could swear that she feels his eyes burning her back, reminding her all over again of the fact that she is really not wearing enough.

In order to not tempt fate, Chuck makes sure to turn the lock behind her, because the way things are going this morning she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd somehow ended up walking in on her mid-shower. Like shit, how is she supposed to get over this when he's so... inadvertently encouraging?

For good measure she bangs her head against the nearest wall a few times, as if that might somehow clear away these goddamn thoughts. It’s just too much and it’s really only a matter of time before she gives it all away, isn’t it? Stupid, stupid girl.

-

To her relief it's pretty dead downstairs. Something to do with the fact that it's still so damn early no doubt.

There’s only two other occupants in the dining room, not even a member of hotel staff in sight or any Jaeger chasing devotees either. From the looks of things Horizon’s pilots hadn’t even gone to bed, simply relocating from one isolated table to another. They aren’t back on the booze just yet, both nursing some sort of tea instead, and have picked a pack of cards up from somewhere. Their mood seems a little improved from last night, even if neither of them’s particularly cracking a smile and their game of snap is somewhat subdued.

On the brighter side last night’s celebrations seem to have kept the Beckets out for the count. Such a shame, that. If there’s any justice in the world she just hopes they wake up with a proper hangover. Wankers.

For the sake of boosting her mood, Chuck wastes no time zeroing in on the coffee supply. After a brief taste, she deems it decent enough and wanders back over to join the other Ranger team. They don’t object to the intrusion, even if the most any of them makes in the way of greeting is a nod. Sometimes the best company is the silent kind, and in the emptiness of the room it makes sense to group together a bit more. That and watching the game gives her something to think about other than him and all this crazy shit going on in her head.

Somehow she needs to get a proper handle on this, because last night could've all too easily turned into a disaster. Or, hell, even this morning. Because she'd really been tempted to put her hands where she shouldn't, curious about how close her imagination is to the sounds he might make if she... At least next time they have a long Drift she'll be ready for it. For his sake she has to fight this, it doesn't matter how. And fuck, hasn't she been here before?

'You okay?' Judging by the look Herc's directing at her she's not doing a good enough job of internalising her worries.

Damping quickly down on that line of thought, she aims for a nonchalant shrug. 'I'm fine, just waking up.'

Some of his concern evidently eases at that, which is always a good thing, like he'd been genuinely worried that it might have been something else bothering her. Which admittedly it was but he doesn’t have to know as much. 'That really wore you out, hey?'

The implication of weakness isn't one she likes, even if she knows that he of all people wouldn't mean it that way. That alone keeps her from snapping, responding with a truthful grumble instead. 'Wasn't ready to get up is all.'

'I know.’ At least this time he sounds a bit apologetic about it. ‘But we need to be getting back.'

Duty calls, after all. Today she gets the joy of her first debriefing with Commander sunshine, and if she's really unlucky they'll decide it's a good idea to farm them out to the media at the earliest opportunity. You know, get the good impression out there asap to offset that earlier shitstorm. Chuck would be perfectly happy if the fighting was the only thing to being a Ranger, sadly she knows all too well that it's not. Shoe’s on the other foot now, she guesses, vaguely wondering if this might not be the time to quietly dispose of that collection of hers. It’s not like she’s going to have a rosier opinion of the press once she’s had to sit through the umpteenth question about her age.

She manages to hide her renewed grimace by quickly raising her cup before he can call her on it. Thank fuck she has coffee. Still, she can't help but feel as if there's something almost expectant that remains in the air, like he's waiting for something else. It bothers her, much as she focuses on her drink and tries not to think about it. If there's something he wants then he damn well has to come out and say it.

Before either of them can get anywhere near cracking, though, Horizon’s pilots conclude their latest game, chair scraping loudly as Lo Hin gets to his feet. Almost subconsciously the man’s hand goes to his side, the faintest trace of discomfort in the way he holds himself. Fresh circuit burns, most likely. With a quiet word to his co-pilot he departs the room, doing a relatively good job of concealing for the apparent injury.

‘The damage was limited.’ Xichi picks up her unspoken question, as she carefully reorders and tidies away the cards. ‘It is a learning experience that will make us stronger. We appreciated your presence.'

Rangers don’t straight out thank each other, not for doing their jobs, but it’s a similar sentiment. One that’s definitely welcome and Herc speaks for both of them. ‘We were glad to be there.'

With a tentative sort of half-smile, Xichi nods. ‘Try not to wait around here too much longer. And good luck.'

Quite what the luck is for the older Ranger doesn’t say, although Chuck feels like she might have an all too clear idea of what it could be. Which doesn’t exactly inspire masses of hope, considering how spectacularly bad she is with people in general, let alone journos. Maybe, just maybe, that drop will have proven that she can function in a Conn-Pod just like any of the others. But she’s not all that optimistic about the chances of that. People are fucking idiots most of the time, why should this be any different?

Trying not to dwell on that and ruin this morning even more, she downs the remainder of her coffee for the sake of going for a refill. Given how much time she’s going to be spending stuck in a cabin with him it seems like an idea to take the opportunity to stretch her legs, for the sake of her continued sanity. Inevitably the entire ride back to Sydney is going to boil down to her having to stare out a window and sit on her hands. Naturally, not on the same wavelength at all, Herc decides to go right ahead and follow her.

To make matters worse he cuts smoothly in front of her, blocking off access to the caffeine and giving her an unimpressed look. ‘Is that really all you’re having?'

Ah. This again. Should’ve known. It’s almost enough to make her paranoid. But it could just as easily be intuition, nothing more. Either way, she’s not exactly keen on him dwelling on this. Just because she doesn’t always remember- She doesn’t need _monitoring_.

Temper flaring, she sets her jaw and promptly digs her heels in, on principle. ‘That was the plan.'

Not getting the message, or deliberately ignoring it, Herc stands his ground. ‘It’s not a short journey, you’re going to get hungry.'

There’s a point where being sweet turns into downright annoying and he is getting mighty close to crossing it. Logically, she knows that this is a stupid thing to be getting riled up over, which means now is the time to be taking a long, deep breath and letting it go. He isn’t trying to be difficult, he’s just being parental. And it’s not like she was deliberately- She just forgot about it, is all. More important things on her mind.

But, seeing as she’s still really shit at this anger management thing, backing down ends up turning into more of a petulant mutter. 'Do you _have_ to make a fuss about this?'

While the determined set of his shoulders doesn’t change he softens his tone for a more cautious probe. ‘You tell me.’

He really doesn’t know. That’s good. She can work with that. It’s just a good thing that it’s not busier in here, or else this’d be really awkward. No weak shit in public, she’d never live it down. This isn’t a conversation she’s having here, or anywhere else if she can get away with it. Sure, if it were a choice she’d still let this get into the Drift instead of that more problematic feelings stuff, but in an ideal world she’d rather not give him any extra cause to be so damn watchful.

Shaking her head, Chuck sidesteps, not today. But, because he does have a bit of a point and it’s not worth worrying him anyway, she takes a piece of toast to go with her refill. Making a point of taking a bite as she heads back to the table, she swallows and shoots a challenging look over her shoulder. ‘There, happy?'

For now it seems that he’s content to let it slide, accepting the concession even if it’s with traces of a frown. Still, she can’t help being a little worried that he’s paying such close attention. What with the way they’re picking up more of each other’s body language over time it might not be long before he starts inevitably twigging to the way she is around him. To what her embarrassment really means. Hell, he might just realise that she spends far too much of her time watching him herself.

She needs to be careful, that’s all, don’t give him any reasons to be suspicious. There’s also some relief to be found in the fact that when his eyes are on her then they aren’t on anyone else. Even if it’s not the way she wishes he would look at her.

Rather than brooding about that and making herself feel worse, Chuck takes advantage of the silence to move the subject swiftly on to safer ground. ‘So, what time are we leaving again?’

It might just be her but there seems to be the slightest of guilty hesitations before he answers. ‘Soon as we’re ready.’

‘You mean I could’ve slept in after all?’ Well, maybe that was partly her fault for going that little bit too far with the touching, but _still_. It’s not like the bunk’s anywhere near as nice, what with being smaller, further from the ground and a lot lonelier.

‘Maybe next time.’ Herc gives her a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, as if that in any way makes up for having her give up that bed before she absolutely had to. Okay, just a tiny bit.

It’s with just the slightest of grumbles that she follows him back out into the lobby. Unsurprisingly, there’s still the precautionary security on the door and she wonders if they’d had to keep that up all night. Have to watch out for the crazies after all. Even if any of the Rangers could defend themselves more than capably if it actually came down to it. Still, she supposes it’s better for public relations if they don’t have to do the dirty work themselves.

Turns out they’re actually not leaving by the front door, which is something she’s quite okay with. Manila has a particularly high concentration of Kaiju worshippers, despite the fact that Hundun _literally_ shat all over their city, so it’s better not to tempt fate. And, as for the media, she’d rather deal with them on home turf wherever possible. If at all. At least in the Dome she has a chance of managing to make herself scarce.

The PPDC craft's already prepped and waiting for them outside, the whole operation running as slick as ever. So much better than public airlines, even if this time they don’t get to have it entirely to themselves. Fortunately, it’s a decent sized cabin, seeing as the far end has been claimed by the pair of Drivesuit techs, one of them apparently passed out and the other preoccupied with a pad. As much as Chuck thinks she’d prefer some extra privacy she’s got to admit that having witnesses around is a pretty effective way to keep her on her best behaviour. Relatively speaking.

-

On balance she ends up concluding that the journey out was definitely the better of the two, even if she does at least get more freedom to move around this way. But it's not like she's entirely looking forward to arriving at their destination and is still regretting that she'd wasted an opportunity that she most likely won't get again. _Shouldn’t_ get again. Unfortunately, as Chuck curls up in a corner seat and counts the minutes, she knows that she’s only ever going to want him more.

Even when the chopper finally sets down in Sydney she doesn’t get much in the way of relief. Her chances of slipping off and avoiding the inevitable displeasure of the Commander plummet straight to zero as she steps out onto the helipad. To make matters worse Winchester's decided to tag along too, which is only turned into a positive by the fact that the head tech had the sense to bring Max. So at least she gets someone she wants to see.

Still, as the bulldog comes waddling over, tail wagging vigorously, it's impossible not to be cheered up. Even though he’s gotten a fair bit bigger than when he was a puppy the only problem she has with picking him up is the fact that he finds it so hard to just stay still. But mostly that’s because he’s trying to lick her face, and once he gets that satisfaction he settles down a bit more.

‘You been good, hmm, handsome?’

Obviously it’s a rhetorical question, and there’s also a part of Chuck that sincerely hopes he’d given the head tech hell for her. Bad enough that she has to worry about her dad without having to think about Max's ability to replace her.

‘The little guy had a right blast watching the coverage.’ Winchester still has no problem butting in on conversations that weren’t at all intended for her, taking the excuse to pass the discarded lead over to Herc. ‘Before he conked out for the rest of the night, that is. And he had regular drinks, don’t worry.'

Rather than giving her a chance to fail to say it Herc goes right ahead and does it for her. Sounding far more genuine than she’d have ever managed. ‘Thanks.'

‘No worries.’ The woman smiles brighter, quite happy to direct her attention squarely at him and making her priorities pretty damn obvious. ‘It was nice having the extra company.'

Luckily neither of them’s paying enough attention to catch the way Chuck narrows her eyes dangerously at the tech. She does not like where that comment seems to be going, at all. Shit, this day didn’t have to go _so_ far downhill, did it? _Stop with the goddamn flirting, I’m_ right _here._

Clearing his throat, as if he’s getting tired of the show as well, Bauer motions decisively in the direction of the door. ‘As nice as this weather might be, let's take this inside.'

Rather than hanging around, she’s the first to follow the Commander this time, pointedly ignoring the fact that a quiet conversation carries on behind her. It’s probably nothing, just work stuff or pointless small talk. Don’t think about the rumours. Chuck knows it’s not like that. She hopes. All the same, she’s not sure what else she could call what the head tech’s doing if it’s not flirting. And he’s not exactly shooting it down either.

For the sake of not making the lift ride more awkward than it needs to be she stays out of the way, stroking Max with a singular focus. He’s a good distraction, seeming to understand that something’s bothering her and just happy to be her centre of attention anyway. If there’s one thing she can count on it’s her sweet puppy. After all, he’s gotten her through worse than this. It’s not that big a deal. _It is._

By the time they make it to Bauer’s office, though, she’s happy enough to put him back down. In spite of her best efforts Max is definitely still managing to sneak extra portions of food, it’s just a good thing she exercises him as much as she does. Not objecting to being dumped on the floor, he’s perfectly content to go for a sniff round the room, and if he wants to take a piss in any of the corners she won’t stop him. But he’s a better-behaved dog than she is, too busy in his quest to have everyone like him to do it. Still, having Max loose seems to bother the man enough anyway, so she’ll take the small victory.

Bit of a shame the LOCCENT Controller is conspicuously absent, Chuck had half-hoped he would’ve gotten an invite, might’ve made things slightly more bearable. That and he had been the one actually monitoring them for the majority of the drop. Maybe if her mood gets bad enough she’ll try asking where exactly their CO had been wandering off to yesterday. Then again, he’d probably sensed someone enjoying themselves or something.

‘Well, I don’t think there’s any reason to argue that that wasn’t a successful deployment.’ Which is his way of saying that he definitely thinks it could’ve been better, and even if they do agree on that it doesn’t make her like him any more for saying it. ‘Nothing’s damaged, I take it?'

‘No sir, there’s a bit of scratched paint but other than that Striker's still in top condition.’ For a brief moment, Winchester seems to consider whether she should stick to answering the exact question asked or add a bit more. In typical fashion, she quickly decides to carry straight on. ‘The K-Stunners worked perfectly, we’re already reloading ready for the next launch but in my opinion I think we could do with getting another batch in production asap.’

‘I’ll take that under advisement.’ Tellingly his eyes stray away from the tech almost as soon as he says it and here it comes. 'There seemed to me to be a bit of a delay on those...'

‘It had a thick hide, anything would’ve had extra work getting through that.’ Crossing his arms with a defensive twitch, Herc has no problem shutting that nonsense right down.

With a noncommittal hum, Bauer waves the point back off, still evidently disagreeing. Most likely thinking about how much more effective that fucking plasmacaster to the brain had been. ‘I assume you were both satisfied with the Mark-5’s performance in the field?'

‘Course.’ Chuck snorts, wondering how many more pointless questions they have to go through before he pretends to agree to disagree and lets them go. It’s not like they hadn’t already spent hours getting used to Striker before this.

Naturally that was a trick question, the Commander pouncing on her response with unbearably smug relish. ‘Really? That’s funny, Vasquez mentioned something about there being an issue with your readings during combat. We don’t want any repeats of-'

‘There wasn’t a problem.’ Herc cuts him off before he can get to the punch, a clear warning in the way his jaw clenches. It’s pretty safe to say they all knew where the tosser was going to go with that. While the Commander is by no means gunning for her dad the fact of the matter is that he keeps putting himself in the firing line, by simple virtue of standing by her.

‘Ah.’ He couldn’t sound more unconvinced if he tried. ‘Then you can assure me that it won’t happen again?'

Even though it’s possibly tantamount to an admission that it was her fuck-up - and come on, who here doubted that anyway? - Chuck answers. ‘Yes.’

‘You’re quite confident of that?’ Though Bauer stops short of scoffing it’s a near thing.

Glaring right back at him, she doesn’t hesitate, even though it’s not strictly speaking entirely true. Either way he’s going to be an ass so why give him anything? ‘Absolutely.'

It won't be her who blinks first, and she doesn't care how many more times she has to repeat herself. She'll be damned if she ever lets another rabbit through like that. But of course it doesn't matter what she says, Bauer's always going to doubt her. And right now that thought _really_ pisses her off, her hands clenching into tight fists as the frustration gains momentum. Nothing's ever going to enough, is it?

Either oblivious to the boiling state of tension in the room or just slightly stupid, Winchester takes it upon herself to break the stalemate. 'I can have the equipment checked out if that'll put your mind at ease?'

Judging by the expression that suggestion provokes, the Commander is in no doubt over the real cause of the problem. But, for whatever reason, he lets it go. 'Alright, get it looked at. Urgently. I want to have complete confidence that there isn’t something wrong.'

While this is definitely a more diplomatic resolution than it could’ve been that doesn’t mean Chuck is at all happy with it, being pushed to one side because her word still means _nothing_ around here. So maybe she should just-

Resorting to what’s fast becoming a failsafe intervention Herc reaches over and gives her leg a deliberate squeeze. One of them has to stay calm, no matter how much of a twat their CO is. ‘Was that all, sir?'

‘If there's nothing else either of you need to mention?’ Even though it’s pretty redundant he still pauses, briefly, looking between them just to be sure. ‘Then I guess we’re done here. There’s a standard press round scheduled in fifteen minutes-'

Without meaning to she makes an audible grumble, unable to hide her displeasure with that lovely announcement on top of everything else. So maybe it’s a bit petulant, right now she doesn’t entirely care, might as well play the age card in her own favour for once. Because she is not in the mood for this shit.

Frowning directly at her, Bauer continues; ‘It’s a necessary evil, I’m sure you can appreciate that. The questions have all been vetted but that doesn’t mean you’re going to have an easy time of it. If we could just try to avoid being too… _aggressive_ about anything that would be for the best.'

Bit of an ask, that, and you can bet the condescending asshole knows it. Might be easier to keep her cool if a certain someone wasn’t already doing their best to needle her. Then again, perhaps next to him a journo wouldn’t be so bad, they aren’t technically in charge of her. Chuck might’ve been able to believe that if it weren’t for the very keen memory of that fucking article. At least Bauer has to play by the rules, unlike those vultures.

Herc seems to be thinking the same sort of thing, albeit from a slightly different angle. ‘If anyone says-'

‘If they get out of line you call time. End of.’ Naturally, the Commander can’t be reasonable for five seconds without having to have one little twist of the knife, though. ‘But we don’t want to look too defensive if we can avoid it.'

Because they've got no reason to be wary, right? It's not like some of these people were all too eager to try and burn the whole program down over her not so very long ago. But they don't have much of a choice, not if they’re going to convince at least some of the more vocal idiots that there’s nothing wrong with her being in a Conn-Pod. If worst comes to worst he can always kick her when she almost inevitably tries to say or do something unwise.

To think that today had started off so damn promising, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bladder, really? I think we know better than that ;)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, lovely readers, and as for next time; does fighting a Kaiju make the press any less unpleasant?


	27. Better Unknown

So maybe it’d be better going into this with a positive outlook, but that’s not something Chuck could’ve managed even if she wasn’t already having a sort of shitty day. Honestly, does anyone really expect her to just _forget_ what some of these people have already said about her? What they've said about Herc? Like hell.

She doesn’t want to deal with these vultures, not for one second, why should she hide it? Why should she even give them any sort of satisfaction? It’s not like she’s some great ambassador for the Corps even at the best of times. But it is what it is. This is what Rangers have to do, assuming they want to stay in their Jaeger. That and, well... For his sake, she has to try and convince these assholes that he hadn’t twisted her arm to make her get into the Conn-Pod with him.

Even so, Chuck can’t say she much fancies being stuck in a chair for the next hell knows how long. Talking to people has never been her strong point, as a none too short succession of paid professionals could well attest. And that was when they were arguably meant to be on the same side as her, even if it had never felt like it at the time. She’s had enough interrogations to last her at least another lifetime, or two. Maybe after this PR will realise what a bad idea it is and let them get away with a more minimal level of exposure for the greater good of the program. Unlikely, perhaps, but she has to hold onto something here.

Because it’s a semi-regular occurrence for the press to want access to the Rangers, and it’s just good sense to stay close to base, the Shatterdomes all have their own little dedicated area for them. Nice and near the main entrance so they can be ejected as necessary and don’t get the opportunity to go nosing around the Dome at large while they’re there. Spirit of openness or some such shit. Whatever, it at least means they’re on home ground, this time.

Just let her dad do most of the talking; that’d been the unspoken order shot her way before the Commander let them loose. But if she doesn’t say anything she knows that’d be taken the wrong way too, that and it’s kind of inevitable that she’ll get some direct questions thrown at her. After all, people might’ve forgotten about how young she is for five whole seconds.

Still, Chuck fought a Kaiju less than twenty-four hours ago. Damn near killed it too. This is really nothing in comparison. With that in mind, she puts on her best neutral expression as the PR aide ushers the pair of them through into the designated interview room. It seems to be one of the few places in the Dome where the decorators really made an effort, as if the press would prefer it to look less utilitarian and military, naturally. At least that seems to mean that the chairs don’t look too uncomfortable. Hell, she thinks they’re probably a bit better than the ones in the Commander’s office. Other than his, that is.

Although her hackles still go up instinctively when she spots the waiting journo the fact is that the woman looks like one of those serious news types. Doesn’t seem like a gossip-monger, although who knows for sure. If the ABC got it into their heads to make an issue over her then that wouldn’t stop them. Probably best just to be suspicious of every one of these people she meets from now on, so no real change there then.

‘Ashleigh Jones,’ the woman stands, polite, and offers a hand to shake with nothing other than purely businesslike intent. 'I believe we’ve spoken before.'

‘Once or twice.’ Herc returns the handshake with an easy enough smile, any misgivings he’s feeling well hidden. Maybe PR filtered out the hostile ones, it seems like the least they could do really.

It’s a pretty one-sided introduction, seeing as the whole reason the journo’s here in the first place is to talk to them specifically. But, as much as she can feel the very definite assessment in the way she’s being looked at, Chuck does her best to not let on that it bothers her. So maybe her own handshake’s a tad firmer than usual but it’s not like anyone else can tell that. Has to assert her strength somehow, after all.

Without even thinking about it, she ends up taking the chair on the left, which incidentally happens to be the one that’s marginally nearer the door. Something tells her he could end up regretting letting her have those extra inches of head-start later.

‘I take it you had a long flight back this morning?’ The reporter adopts a faux-relaxed pose in her own chair, as if that’ll somehow give off the impression that this is just some sort of informal, coincidental chat rather than a mandated Q&A session.

‘Better this morning than last night.’ Which is very true, and kind of obvious, but Herc doesn’t make the simple response sound hostile like she inevitably would have. Even without the extra practice he’d still be better at this than her.

As the crew have yet to finish setting up they clearly get to waste some time with meaningless small talk instead. Shame, these are the sort of questions Chuck’s confident she couldn’t really mess up that much. At least the paper reporters are basically good to go from the start, and she won’t have to worry about whether or not she’s twitching too much.

‘Enjoy your time in Manila?'

He doesn’t hesitate to answer, completely at ease as far as anyone else could tell. ‘Can’t say we really saw much of it, did we?'

Slightly caught off guard - distracted by the fact that _this_ room gets a window - she fluffs it. Come on, he should know better than to just pull her into the line of fire like that. ‘Uh, not really… Guess the hotel was nice enough.'

That answer seems to at least satisfy him, although she’s not quite sure what exactly for. True, there was nothing horrendous about it, other than maybe the cringe-worthy delivery, but it doesn’t exactly speak wonders for her ability to think fast here. In her defence, the thought of Manila just takes her right back around to first thing this morning, which is really not something she needs to be thinking about right now. If ever.

‘Not too much in the way of celebration then?'

Was that a judgemental tone? It feels like it might have been, though maybe she’s just being overly paranoid. Glancing at him for some sort of direction, Chuck makes do with a noncommittal shrug, if it’s bait then she’s not going to rise to it. Not this time anyway.

For the sake of being diplomatic, Herc's a little more forthcoming; ‘It was the longest Drift Chuck’s been in, that takes it out of you.’

‘I see…’

Whatever equally pointless question the reporter was no doubt going to follow that up with is preempted by another member of the crew, who announces that they’re good to go. Chuck can only hope that they don’t have to sit through this same song and dance too many times today, or else her patience is going to end up wearing thin pretty damn fast. One last longing look at the door is all she lets herself have, resigning herself to seeing this through as best she can.

After the obligatory bit of introductory spiel the woman jumps right back in, soft questions apparently all used up. ‘So, you two are the first cross-generation partnership in the Jaeger Program. How would you say you’re finding having to work with each other on that level?'

Damn, Chuck really did prefer that inane small talk. Instinctively she looks at Herc, only to end up meeting his eyes again. They probably need to avoid doing that too often, it might end up looking like they’re coordinating their response. But, come on, this question is totally meant for him.

‘I wouldn’t say it was all that different from any other partnership. We have a lot of common ground to build off so we sync up just fine.'

Rather than trying to press him further on it, like certain tabloids almost certainly would, the woman nods and then directs a very pointed look at her. Because apparently just one answer isn’t good enough. ‘You don’t find it difficult having to share your thoughts with your own father?'

The Drift is one of those things they aren’t supposed to overly talk about to outsiders, for the sake of trying to avoid too much extra speculation or conjecture. Unless you’ve experienced it for yourself you can’t entirely understand it, so it’s pointless to try explaining. Also, she really can’t be admitting the fact that there’s things she’s desperately trying _not_ to share with Herc, things a lot worse than anything the journo is getting at. Especially not right in front of him.

‘Not really. You have to get over that sort of stuff to be able to pilot properly.’ But because she has to slip up somehow Chuck goes right ahead and adds; 'Besides, I trust him.'

Of course it’s completely honest, but that and the way she subconsciously shoots another glance at him just to emphasise the point probably don’t do her any particular favours. Shit, she’s probably broadcasting her feelings loud and clear for all to see. Increasingly self-conscious, she shifts in her seat and crosses her arms in an attempt to regain her prickliness. That went too far to the cooperative side, balance it better. Softness is weakness.

‘So, Herc, would you say you feel entirely comfortable having your daughter out there with you?'

‘Completely.’ The way he delivers it makes it clear that that’s all he has to say on the matter, even if it’s inevitable that whoever comes next is going to ask the same sort of thing. It’s an obvious question, after all, and one that it’s hard not to sound too defensive on.

Although the reporter has the common sense to move right on, it’s via another touchy subject of course. ‘Obviously you had a prolonged break from piloting following the battle in Wellington; how did it feel getting back into the Conn-Pod?'

‘It’s good to be back. I’m not the type to sit things out, and I didn’t have too much of a chance to get rusty.’ After a brief moment of consideration, he quickly steers it away from the potential pitfall; ‘Even though it’s a very different Jaeger it still feels much the same as ever.'

‘Hmm,’ the reporter nods, pretending to weigh up her next question carefully, ‘how would you say that this new Mark-5 compares to your old Mark-1 then? It’s certainly a much more expensive machine, would you say it was a significant improvement?'

In spite of herself, Chuck’s interested to hear this one. They’ve still never really talked about anything to do with Lucky, so all she has to go on with regards to his opinion are those few traces of memories that come up naturally in the Drift. Admittedly with the angle of the question he’s basically duty-bound to talk the favourable comparison up, because there’s still those murmurs going around about whether Striker was worth the level of investment. Hence why the Americans are dragging their feet so damn much about developing the next Mark-5. Still, she kind of hopes he’d come to that response on his own anyway. So what if Lucky was his first Jaeger? Striker’s just _better_ , in every way.

'Goes without saying, doesn't it?' Tactful where she wouldn't be, he doesn't bother with the relative inanity of the question. Some things you just have to spell out, especially when people want the cost of their Jaeger justified, again. 'There's been a lot of development over the years, the HUD's a lot more advanced which is a big help, and it all feels more responsive in general.'

'The missiles are certainly a bit of a departure from your usual fighting style.’ It’s accompanied by an encouraging gesture of the hand, the woman seeking more detail now that she’s found a less touchy topic.

'They're efficient.’ Herc shrugs slightly, and she can tell he’s already getting sick of having to keep explaining this when anyone could just watch the goddamn footage and understand. ‘The warheads are designed to detonate once they’ve pierced the Kaiju’s hide for maximum impact. Naturally limits the amount of Kaiju Blue contamination as well.'

‘Impressive.’ Lacking the technical knowledge to do anything but nod in agreement, the reporter visibly checks her prompt. Sticking to the script then, good. ‘The drop in Manila was a three-team deployment. We’ve only seen two of those before, do you think that could be an increasing occurrence in the future?'

That’s not one of the bleeding obvious questions - on account of not being specifically to do with her or Striker - so he takes a moment to consider it properly. ‘I think two’s going to stay the standard. It’s all very dependent on the conditions at the time and the scale of the Kaiju involved. Sure, solo drops are getting to be less common now, but two seems to be a good number in most situations.'

‘And, of course, the more Jaegers there are in a deployment the lower the chances of getting the credit for the kill.’ Even before the reporter turns to her Chuck can guess what’s coming. ‘Disappointed to have lost out on your very first outing?'

Well, duh, of fucking course she was. Especially with it having been stolen at the last minute like it had. But that’s not a very mature way to respond, even though she knows she's already grimaced. Kneading her hands together, and trying not to let all that frustration she’d felt come rushing back, Chuck shrugs. ‘The Kaiju’s dead, that’s the important thing.'

‘Fair enough.’ That answer at least seems to have earned her a tiny bit more respect, not that it actually counts for all that much. 'As the Jaeger Program’s youngest serving Ranger, how are you finding things?'

And there it is. Took the woman long enough to get round to it. Maybe that was to try and create a false sense of security first. But, seriously, what is she supposed to say to that? It’s such a nothing question that it feels like a trick, intended to get her to spill something negative all on her own. After all, if she’s too blunt that’d be the sort of aggressive defensive shit that wouldn't do them or the program any good. And it’s not like she can really wax poetic about how bloody welcoming everyone’s been, either inside or outside the Corps.

Doesn't much help that she can feel Herc watching her, assessing her body language, just in case she can’t handle a simple fucking question. Well, yes, she’s perfectly aware that she’s kind of a loose cannon, but that doesn’t make her any happier about being treated like a little girl. If these people want weakness then like hell is she going to give them even a scrap of it.

‘Easy enough.’ If Chuck had her way she’d probably just leave it at that, but as the reporter’s only going to press her for a more substantial answer she figures she might as well speed things up and give it in the first place. A little extra assertiveness seems in order, so she matches it with a challenging sort of glare. ‘Just because I’m younger that doesn’t mean I’m any less capable, pretty much the opposite really.'

The ensuing stare-down lasts for a good few moments, before the journo inevitably folds first. Maybe because it’s not exactly professional to engage in a staring contest in the middle of an interview, but Chuck likes to think that she got the message too. The sooner people learn not to mess with her the better. Even if that was probably a little too much like aggression for the PR team’s liking, on reflection.

Even so, the reporter doesn’t seem to take any particular offence from it. Though it's maybe at least partly behind the next abrupt shift in subject. ’The logo on your Jaeger, what’s the story behind that?'

They do it again, the synchronised look, because that’s not exactly something she wants to go into. Sure, it's a tame question, about as tame as you can get, but it's also kind of personal. Not least because she knows anything she said about it would end up coming out far too sappy and ruining her reputation forevermore. Damn him for being too thoughtful, it’s going to end up being the death of her.

Seeing as it _was_ his idea in the first place, Herc saves her the trouble and fields it. ‘We have a bulldog, Max; he’s already a bit of a mascot around here so it seemed we might as well make it official.'

Absently, Chuck nods along, once again thankful for him and his tact. He's undoubtedly what saves this business from being a total disaster, providing the moderation and calmness that she decidedly lacks. There’s no arguing who brings more to this partnership. She gets so distracted by that line of thought that she barely notices the reporter wrapping it up. Good thing that happened to be the last question, or else there'd be more reason for the PR department to be frustrated with her. But that's it, job done. One down, too many more to go.

Although she has to admit that her dissatisfaction eases just a little bit when, the coast apparently being clear, Herc’s hand finds its way onto her knee for a brief, reassuring pat. It could be a lot worse, after all.

-

But that’s only the first, and although none of the others end up being any more aggravating it soon turns into a bit of a grind. Having to stay on her toes and yet not seem too cagey is a more wearing task than piloting and Chuc hates it. How has this only been going on for an hour? Even so, she endures it, trying not to fidget too much and to make sure that she spends upwards of half the time _not_ looking at Herc. For the sake of keeping Striker, to stay with him, she can deal with this.

All in all, she seems to do okay, at least going by the fact that nobody tries to jump in and shut her up at any point. More than anything it’s force of will that sees her through it, reminding herself over and over why it’s important to play nice. And then, eventually, it’s almost over. They’ve only got one more paper reporter left to talk to and she dares to think that this is the home straight.

As soon as she sets eyes on this last journo Chuck knows that she really doesn’t like the guy. There’s something in the way he holds himself that just reeks of self-satisfaction, far too snaky for her liking. She wonders who the hell thought this guy was a good idea, and that’s before he actually introduces himself.

‘Sam Morton, I'm with the Telegraph.'

 _Motherfucker_. She starts to move before she can even think about whether or not it's really a good idea to go for the wanker. That goddamn article was all down to this snake and then PR goes right ahead and _lets_ him into _their_ Dome? Well, fuck that noise, the only way she’s dealing with this shit stain is if it involves punching. Or maybe a nice hard kick.

But then there's a hand twisting in her collar, a firm and timely reminder that Dad’s right here too. He can’t like this any more than she does. When she shoots a frown at him she can see that he doesn’t, a definite tension clear to her in his whole body language, but he still makes the slightest shake of the head. _Don't give him what he wants._

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t make her any happier about this. Reluctantly she backs down and takes a seat, slowly, ready to launch up at the slightest sign of provocation. Sure, Herc has enough self-control not to deck this wanker on sight, and maybe even to resist any goading, but if there is even one hint about him forcing her to do anything she'll take that one for the team. No hesitation.

With a look far smugger than he has any right to have, like he’s already enjoying this, the journo makes himself right at home as he whips out his dictaphone and a notebook. Who even uses notebooks anymore? Pretentious asshole. He also doesn’t bother with the small talk that everyone else has warmed up with, cutting straight to the chase rather than wasting anyone’s time. ‘I guess that kill streak’s gotten away from you, hasn’t it?'

Well, if _looks_ could kill… In another situation there might be something almost refreshing in the journo's completely upfront attitude and the fact that he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s here with an agenda. Not here or now, though. Especially not about this. Chuck finds it hard to believe that PR would’ve let him in here knowing that he was going to go straight on the offensive, seeing as it was his piece that caused them so many headaches in the first place.

Herc being himself handles it just fine, with an impressive level of restraint. 'Maybe, but that isn't all that important to me. This is about stopping Kaiju, saving lives; that's what matters.'

Scribbling notes, Morton lets a pause hang in the air for a little longer than necessary, dragging it out as if that’ll somehow get him more unguarded answers. ‘And now that you’ve field-tested it properly, would you say that the Mark-5 justifies the extra investment?'

‘Yes, I would. We need to stay sharp. Taking advantage of all the advances that’ve been made since the earliest days of the Program means we can fight the threat more effectively.’ His voice has just the slightest level of testiness to it, a vague hint at the annoyance he feels at having to explain this at all. ‘Striker’s also a lot cleaner than the older models, more efficient.'

‘Safer, perhaps?'

It’s obvious what he’s trying to get at, so Herc doesn’t give him any ground. ‘Relatively speaking.'

‘Of course, safety’s all relative when you’re going up against two hundred foot tall monsters.’ Morton gives an insincere smirk, and then he switches his attention onto her as he changes angle. ‘Not a bad time to be coming into things, then, is it? So, tell me, how _is_ it that you ended up getting into the Academy at just fifteen?'

This guy, more than anyone else, reminds her of that first day in Alaska, that sense of judgement. Even though she knows his answer to the mystery of her presence here is a very different one to Ward’s the similarity’s still very much there. She almost thinks she preferred that one, out of the dismissive accusations, because at least that wasn’t in any way an attack on Herc. And at least she got to punch Ward for it.

Still figuring out where to put her hands that she can easiest resist the urge to sock the wanker, Chuck knows her best defence is to keep things short and to the point. ‘I applied.'

‘And?’

’They let me in.’ So maybe he’ll have trouble building an article around a bunch of single clause answers, but that’s not her problem. After all, it’s not like she isn’t cooperating here, technically.

Narrowing his eyes at her, evidently having hoped for a more forthcoming response, Morton makes a careful note, deliberately flips the page and tries a different angle of attack. ‘You weren’t living here in the Shatterdome before that, were you?'

This feels like a trap, but it’s one of those yes or no questions that leaves her no real room for dodging. And seeing as getting caught in a lie would be worse for everyone involved, she grits her teeth and gives him what he no doubt wants. ‘No. I was with my gran, in Perth.'

‘All the way out on the west coast, huh? That must have been nice and peaceful for you.'

Neither of those are words she would’ve used to describe her time over there. Boring, maybe. Unpleasant, definitely. Not that Chuck can exactly say any of that, especially not to this tosser. Seeing as he clearly expects some sort of verbal response, and it’s not like this is one that Herc can really jump in on, she shrugs. ‘I guess. Still as close to the ocean as anywhere else, though.'

‘And then you joined up in March, right?’ He already knows that, and they all know it. Such a fucking obvious leading question but it’s not like she can just ignore it.

Resisting the urge to look at her dad, because she figures the journo would take that as evidence that she doesn’t have a mind of her own or some such bullshit, she bares her teeth. ‘Yeah.'

‘Barely any time at all after the Mawgrim incident, bit of a coincidence.’ He doesn’t give that much of a chance to sink in as he switches target again, making the attack he’d clearly been building up to this whole time. ‘So you went from having no real contact with your daughter to having her as your co-pilot in the space of seven months? Care to explain that sudden change of heart?'

The sharp scrape of her chair against the hard floor is probably loud enough to be caught on the audio. It’s likely a detail that’ll come back to haunt her, knowing this guy, but right now that doesn’t matter. What matters is what this slimy piece of shit is trying to imply about Herc, _again_ , and like hell is she going to just sit there and let that happen.

‘It wasn’t _his_ decision.'

Not nearly intimidated enough, the wanker just dismissively raises an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh really?'

Her fists clench tighter and she is honestly about a second away from taking a swing at this dickhead, screw everything. That works better than talking, seeing as he’s obviously just going to twist anything they say to suit his own petty little agenda anyway. This isn’t about whether she’s up to the job or if Striker is a cost-effective asset, this is just vindictive smearing. It’s just plain low, never mind the fact that they’re here trying to protect people and win this war.

Fortunately, for everyone involved, Herc doesn’t waste any time preventing her doing something she’d probably end up regretting. Eventually. Maybe. Except the way he keeps physically intervening likely doesn’t do anything for the impression that he’s very much the one in charge of this partnership. Which is true, just not in the way this snake twists it.

Situation contained, he directs a steely look at the journo, any attempt at civility gone. ‘You’ve had your time. Door’s over there.'

‘That figures.’ Morton doesn’t particularly protest, getting to his feet without much hesitation and squaring up like he’s not some pasty journo who’d last less than a second in an actual fight. ‘Well, good luck out there.'

Dripping smugness and contempt, the snaky wanker saunters out happily enough, as if he couldn’t have asked for that to go better. And shit, that was exactly the sort of ammo she wasn’t supposed to be giving him, wasn’t it? No points for guessing what he’s going to be writing about later. Fuck.

Soon as she’s sure he’s out of hearing range, Chuck gives the nearest chair a hard kick, just to let some of the steam off without giving in to the urge to follow the shit stain out the door. Without a doubt she is going to go break a punching bag at the first opportunity. ‘Fucking _asshole!_ '

Not at all inclined to argue with that completely reasonable assessment, Herc doesn’t try to tell her off for lashing out at the furniture either. Even if he’s not nearly as riled up as she is, though, his jaw’s still set in that tense way, because that really could’ve gone a lot better, couldn’t it? She’s such a _screwup_.

After a couple more kicks the intensity of her frustration starts to ease a little, allowing the shame to take back over. ‘Sorry.'

‘It’s okay.’ Even though it’s blatantly not it’s still good to hear him say it. His next words not so much. ‘You don’t have to defend me, you know.'

‘Yes, I do.’ Chuck has no hesitation correcting that, it should go without saying. Especially when it comes to crap like this that is _all her fault_ in the first place. Besides, they have to look out for each other.

Knowing that it’s a losing battle - and it’s not like he isn’t exactly the same way about her - he doesn’t argue it further. Instead, he inclines his head in the direction of the door, some of that familiar challenge creeping back into his expression. ‘Well, seeing as we’re done here, how about we go settle this in the kwoon?'

 _Now_ he’s talking. The suggestion cheers her up more than she cares to admit, even though Chuck knows this isn’t going to be the last she hears of that asshole journo and his shit. But, for now, she’s more than willing to get distracted by some proper one-on-one action with Herc. After all, he’s stayed stubbornly one up on her ever since they started sparring so she can’t really be turning down the chance to get even, can she?

‘You’re on.'

-

Funnily enough, she doesn’t notice a single copy of the Telegraph the next morning. So either people are doing a much better job of hiding it whenever she gets anywhere near them or else something untoward has miraculously happened to the Shatterdome supply chain. And the more she thinks about it the more convinced she is that Herc has something to do with it. Which is sweet and all, but also kind of frustrating. Basically par for the course then.

Only when she’s completely sure that she’s searched the Dome to the best of her ability, though, does Chuck finally decide to bring it up. Once she manages to get him cornered, that is, lounging in one of the chairs on top of their container in a way that’s trying almost too hard to be casual.

‘Dad?'

He hums in response, not glancing up from what he’s reading - a file of some kind - and not yet giving her his full attention. Or at least pretending not to, she gets the feeling he might already be messing with her.

Even though it means no longer blocking the escape, she sighs and takes a seat just a little closer into his personal space than she probably should. To make sure that he doesn’t try to get away with ignoring her. ‘What did you do?'

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Which would be an unconvincing answer even if she couldn’t see the slight smile he ducks his head to try and hide.

‘Really?’ She can’t resist rolling her eyes at that. Sometimes he is so damn obvious. 'And I thought you were supposed to be the mature one around here.'

That gets her a bit of a twitch, because it turns out he can be touchier about his age than she is about hers. Which is kind of stupid, considering how fucking good he looks and- _And focus_. The less she lets her mind go off on tangents about how stupidly in love with him she is the better.

Of course, he then goes right ahead and rises to the challenge. ‘Watch it, or I might just decide your ass needs another spank.'

All too quickly her skin starts to heat up in that telltale way, putting her on the back foot without him even having to try. Because she can’t let him see just how much that simple, no doubt innocent, threat affects her, Chuck crosses her arms and looks anywhere but at him. Just treat it like any other harmless banter. ‘You’d have to get me pinned down first.'

‘Well…’ Drawing the word out deliberately, he leans right in and lowers his voice in that way that always goes straight to her head. 'We both know I have plenty of experience with that, don’t we?’

_Hell..._

Having successfully flustered her, he sits back and takes advantage of the moment to address the actual reason she came up here in the first place. ‘Anyway, it’s better for you not to worry about what anyone’s writing about us.'

Thrown by this sudden shift back onto safe ground, and still kind of caught up on what the hell any of that just was, Chuck is slightly less inclined to be irked by his over-protectiveness. But even though she accepts the excuse it’s not without just a little more argument. ‘I’m not _fragile_.'

‘I’m not saying you are.’ As if to underline the point Herc bumps her shoulder gently. 'But I don’t want you getting hung up on it when you don’t have to. That asshole's opinion doesn’t matter.'

If only that were true. Because, much as they might like to pretend it doesn’t, public opinion definitely matters when it comes to the Jaegers. And, for better or worse, at least some of them listen to shit stains like Morton. Which can make life harder than it needs to be, especially if his venomous opinion ever starts to spread faster than PR can contain it.

Shaking her head, still annoyed at herself, she gives a quiet mumble; ‘It does to the program.'

‘Some people will never be happy, whatever we do.’ Reaching over he pulls her hand into his, coaxing her into meeting his eyes. 'PR will deal with it if it needs dealing with. You don’t need that negativity.'

Although she has a very good idea why he’s got that thought into his head morbid curiosity compels her to seek the clarification. ‘Because-’ _I’m weak?_

‘Because you take it too much to heart, love.'

 _Oh._ If it weren’t for the look he's giving her, the way he squeezes her hand or all their time in the Drift Chuck might’ve taken that as an insult. He knows all too well that her skin’s not nearly as thick as she wants people to think and just how stuck she can get on negative thoughts. But he doesn’t think any less of her for it. Even if he does then go and do stuff like this for the sake of shielding her.

The moment starts to stretch out just a little too long, neither of them looking away even though really they ought to. It feels like something else is going on here, like there’s more to his actions that she’s not quite getting. The longer it lasts the less innocent it seems, and she could swear that it’s not just her that's starting to lean in.

Until someone very loudly falls up the stairs. ‘Buggering fuck!'

And there goes that, the kind of intense mood thoroughly ruined in an instant. Which is maybe a good thing, really, considering she doesn’t need to be giving herself more of these stupid feelings and shit. But still, she can’t deny the disappointment of how Herc’s already pulled back, turning away, conversation clearly over.

Unable to quite suppress a frustrated sigh, Chuck pushes herself to her feet and goes to rescue the tech, before he manages to trip over the side of the container or something. If she didn't know any better she'd be tempted to say that Jack had done it on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those clumsy technicians, always falling over things when people are having a moment... The perils of living in a Shatterdome.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, guys, as always. Next time, the return of a rather friendlier face.


	28. Losing Argument

Best she can tell, any new wave of fuss and moral panic dies back down fast enough. Chuck sticks to his advice and doesn’t go seeking anything out, which is without a doubt the easier option anyway. Besides, she gets enough in the way of feedback from around the Dome without turning to the outside world. Vulcan’s pilots tell her that she handled it just fine, before insisting that she grab a seat and join their latest game of rummy. Bauer mutters something disgruntled about teenage girls and temper tantrums the next time he walks past but doesn’t get any crabbier than usual. And Jack takes his time assuring her that there was plenty of positive reaction on the forums, although he mercifully stops short of offering to give her a dramatic reading.

Even so, that doesn't mean she's particularly over the moon when it's announced that the Marshal's coming for a visit. It’s just an annual checkup thing or some such, though judging by the tetchy twitching that Bauer seems to have developed he views it as some sort of challenge to his authority. Not for the first time she wonders just how the man manages to keep his job; because even if he does run a tight ship, and apparently does a good job of dealing with things in general, his attitude still leaves a lot to be desired. Just this time, though, they’re kind of on the same page, in so far as she’s got a bit of an axe to grind with the Marshal herself.

It’s not super official, thank fuck, so Chuck gets away with loitering on the edge of the helipad and frowning at proceedings from under the brim of her baseball cap. She’s not happy about this, because even though it’s good to have a chance to see Mako again she’s still so damn angry on her behalf. There’s no way she should have left the Academy as anything other than a Ranger.

But some of the edge does get taken out of that indignant rage when Mako escapes the welcoming party and comes wandering over with a particularly bright smile. They’ve kept in contact over the months, of course, but coordinating calls from one side of the Pacific to the other isn’t the simplest. And keeping up to date like that isn’t quite the same as actually spending time together. Even if Chuck’s annoyed it’s still so good to properly see the other girl again, it’s not like she has all that much in the way of friends after all.

Tipping her hat back just a little, she returns the smile. ‘Long flight?'

‘I’m used to it.’ Mako genuinely doesn’t seem any the worse for wear, having spent so much of the last few years tagging along behind the Marshal all over the Rim.

They don’t go so far as to hug, the mutual smile enough to be getting along with. Even so, the obvious subject casts a shadow over the mood. Of course, neither of them wants to bring it up right away, to sour things straight off the bat like that. But it’s still there, still needs to be tackled. Just maybe when the Marshal is out of clear disapproval range. Divide and conquer.

'So...' She casts a quick look back at the gathering just to check that the absence isn’t being particularly noticed. 'Hangar?'

Even if Mako still has that blatant favouritism for the Mark-3s the eagerness in her nod is genuine. And why wouldn't it be, really? Anyone with an interest in the Jaegers has to appreciate the beaut that is their Mark-5, which basically goes without saying for anyone in J-Tech. Chuck can't help wanting to show Striker off, it's not like she's really had the chance before and Mako is one of the few people who comes close to understanding what the Jaeger means to her.

Rather than hanging around to deal with the lift - whether she steals it or waits to share it that’d be the wrong choice - she inclines her head and leads the way back to the stairs. More often than not she uses these anyway, preferring the burn of powering her own way between levels. Mostly she just uses the lift for convenience's sake to break up her runs, or on the occasions when it's actually important to get somewhere fast.

There’s a few bits of cloud in the sky but nowhere near enough to compete with the strong sun that’s beating down on the deck. It’s almost perfect weather for shorts, except for the fact that even on a normal day around the Dome she’d be pushing it to be dressing down that much. When the Marshal’s around? Not a chance. Besides, inside the facility itself it’s still pretty cool, despite the severely limited number of windows. A well-regulated temperature’s good for the Jaegers so the hangar, and consequently most of the rest of the base, is pretty well climate controlled by design. In theory, it should stand up to the worst of the summer heat, even in the living quarters. Not that she’s got too much mind to complain even if it doesn’t, still remembering the bone-deep chill of the Academy all too well.

It does seem like a shame to be disappearing back into the sunlight-less bowels of the Dome so soon, though. Especially when she doubts that Mako has seen anywhere near this much sun recently. ‘Much better than Alaska, right?'

‘Much.’ Not that there really should be any doubt about the answer, especially judging by the fact that the other girl isn’t having to wear a coat for once. Must make for a nice change.

Knowing just the right level of force needed to get the door to move, Chuck gets it open with relative ease. She’s basically a semi-regular up here these days, so much so that nobody ever comments on her presence anymore. A surprising amount of things are just written off as Ranger quirkiness, although maybe that isn’t so strange considering some of the other pilots. Either way, the roof has turned out to be a rather good place to sit, especially when she starts to feel as if it’s been too long since she last saw the sun.

Still, stepping into the relative darkness of the stairwell requires a moment of adjustment, even if she’s pretty confident about her chances of not missing a step and taking a rather painful shortcut down the flight. Some risks aren’t worth taking, especially not when a broken bone would be a perfect excuse for somebody to have her grounded indefinitely. Couldn’t be leaving the only up-and-running Mark-5 anything less than fully operational after all.

While both of them are aware of the elephant in the room it's not all that easy to dance around it. Neither of them really has all that much of a life outside of the Jaeger Program itself, after all. Which is _why_ she's so damn frustrated on Mako's behalf.

Before that frustration can build enough to spill-over, though, Mako heads it off; 'Have you figured anything out yet?'

Unfortunately, Chuck knows exactly what she’s asking, and it’s not a subject that makes her any less stressed in its own way. Although it’s admittedly smaller in the grand scheme of things, but still pretty damn important as far as she’s concerned, she has her own problem at the moment. That problem being that it’s nearly her dad’s birthday and she hasn’t got the first clue what to do about it. It’s not like she has much experience in the area, and added to the fact that he’d brought Max back for her, and everything else, she’s having a hard job figuring out how to equal that. Especially when she has to be careful not to make it obvious that she’s also completely in love with him.

'Not a clue.' Chuck sighs, nothing but defeated frustration. She's been trying for weeks but can't seem to come up with anything. At this rate her indecision’s going to make her screw up purely by default. 'Come on, I need some help here.'

This isn't the first time she's asked and so far Mako has been exactly zero help. Apparently asking someone for advice is cheating, for some reason. So her hopes aren't all that high, in spite of the other girl at least making a show of thinking about it. Before she inevitably disappoints her.

'There's always your collection-'

Chuck cuts that short with a scoff; of all the terrible ideas... Well, it’s not one that’d crossed her mind before now, but that’s just because it's possibly the worst suggestion ever. 'Yeah, no.'

But, either not getting the depth of her point-blank refusal or just because she wants to have fun with this, Mako decides to argue it further. Like she genuinely thinks this is a great solution she’s come up with. ‘Why not? You want something with meaning...'

‘No, Mako, no.’ Just to make it perfectly clear she accompanies that with some vigorous hand waving, and it’s a good thing there’s nobody else around in this corridor right now. 'I am not making him a goddamn scrapbook.'

‘Well, you don’t have any better ideas, do you?'

Sometimes she really hates how right her friend can be, not least because there’s just the slightest trace of the Marshal’s self-assurance obvious in her.

And yeah, she’s so bad at this whole daughter thing. Which is probably at least partly to do with the fact that really she wants to be more than that, that it’s more than just familial feelings she feels towards Herc. But even without that complicating everything to the nth degree, Chuck still sucks with people. Even more so when she tries to stop and think about things, because there are some days that she has no idea how the hell she ended up with even one friend.

Besides which, that guilty little collection is staying well away from him. Nothing says daddy issues like having her own print-work shrine to his Jaeger career. Even more so when she’d gone out of her way to get hold of a few especially nice clippings from abroad, including a Japanese one she’s always been particularly attached to... And shit like that is exactly the reason he can't ever be seeing it.

Sullen, and still trying to come with a decent enough counter to that horrendous suggestion, Chuck only starts to perk up when they get close to what is without a doubt one of her favourite places in the Dome. Although arguably the view from the floor of the bay is a more impressive first impression she prefers this particular walkway. Scale is all well and good but anyone who’s been near a Jaeger gets that. No, it’s up here that Striker is best appreciated. Close and personal, even if she still wishes the chest missiles weren’t so much of a thing.

There’s no missing the shift in the atmosphere as she leads the way out onto the walkway, which she notes with satisfaction. It’s one thing to see a Jaeger on screen and another thing entirely to see it for real.

Even though she’s stared at Striker more times than she can count she doesn’t think she’s ever going to stop being awed. Which is why she takes her a moment to appreciate the sight herself, before turning to assess the reaction of her friend. ‘Beaut, right?'

‘She suits you.’ Mako matches her smile, but there’s no denying that wistful undertone or the hint of envy.

Because she’s waited long enough, and there’s really no time like the present, Chuck finally rounds on her. Of course, Striker deserves more time for appreciation, but she can’t ignore it when the door’s left wide open like this. She has to strike while the iron’s hot, before the other girl has the chance to convince herself that she isn’t disappointed to have left the Academy without a Jaeger of her own or even a co-pilot.

‘I can’t believe you're letting him get away with this!'

Having known to expect this explosion, Mako doesn't even bat an eye under the force of it. 'Sensei knows what he's doing.'

Even though it might feel otherwise, it wasn't so long ago that they'd been on the same page here. A couple of months of the Marshal telling her to put her dreams on hold and now she's perfectly onboard with not being tested against anyone and being stuck in J-Tech instead. She's spent almost as long wanting to become a Ranger as Chuck had. What happened to not giving up?

Irked, she doesn't care about the fact that this isn't the most private place to be having this conversation or that maybe her voice is a little on the loud side. 'Of course he does; he _knows_ that he's not going to let you in a Jaeger.'

That’s a misstep, clear from the way that her friend’s expression instantly closes off, and it probably costs her the entire argument in the process. ‘There are no other Jaegers, not yet. When one is ready I will be too. He promised.'

 _And you know how easily any promise can be broken._ Chuck only narrowly succeeds in biting her tongue and keeping the retort to herself. Saying that would cause nothing but bitterness, and even if Mako's not helping herself that doesn't mean she wants to wreck their friendship.

Right now the other girl really seems to need to just believe him, because at the end of the day she still views the Marshal with such devotion. He saved her, that's understandable. But this isn’t about that. Chuck’s not saying that Pentecost’s been a bad father or anything, it’s just that he clearly isn’t separating himself from this decision.

Unfortunately it’s also pretty clear that trying to tell Mako that is only going to make her dig her heels in harder and rush to his defence. They have that in common. But the fact is that she deserves better than being pushed off into J-Tech, even if there isn’t a doubt that she could well end up ruling the division one day. What matters is that Mako _wants_ to pilot and she deserves that chance just as much as anyone else, if not more.

So, it looks like Chuck’s going to have to try her luck at convincing the Marshal to drop his bullshit excuses instead. Assuming she can trap him in a lift with her or something, that is, given his extreme disinclination to just _listen_ to her.

With that minor consolation, and seeing as Mako shouldn’t have come all this way just for them to end up fighting, she lets it go. Reluctantly. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll leave it.'

Although the only response that gets her is a curt nod the air does slowly but surely start to clear again. Silence isn’t all that unusual between them, and it’s not as if this is the first - or last - time they’re going to disagree like this. Eventually they always come back around, their common ground more important than their differences.

Striker’s calming, solid presence does give her some extra perspective too. She’s damn lucky to have what she does. But time’s wasting, it’s only a two-day visit, and there’s one thing she can think of that’ll drive away any lingering tension between them well and good.

‘C’mon, there’s someone else you need to meet.’ Pushing off the railing with an assured finality, Chuck doesn’t need to glance back to make sure she’s being followed. She’s never been quite sure whether her friend was more excited to see her Jaeger or her mascot.

Last she’d checked, Max was conked out on Herc’s bunk, which is pretty much his favourite spot for a daytime nap. No, she doesn’t envy him that spot at all. And, sure enough, when she flicks the light on the lazy thing hasn’t moved more than an inch. Even with all his usual energy the bulldog has days where tiredness seems to catch up with him, which may or may not be anything to do with the amount of scraps he manages to scrounge the night before.

But, tuckered out or not, he lifts his head as soon as he hears the door go, and once he realises that there’s someone _new_ in tow Max can't spring up fast enough. It’s like he'd decided at the start that he needed to be particularly friendly in order to balance out her lack thereof. Of course, because he also understands priorities he comes to see Chuck for a quick pet first, and then promptly moves on to set about winning over his latest fan.

Going by Mako’s expression you’d think he was the first dog she’d ever seen. She even slips briefly into Japanese as she crouches down to introduce herself, a subconscious habit that she might not even be aware of. Although her first stroke is tentative, cautious as if it might hurt him, Max isn’t having any of that nonsense for long and insistently pushes in for more. He’s a right little attention whore.

This is something she can indulge happily enough, even if it means being ignored, so Chuck leaves them to it and takes over Max’s spot on the bed instead. She knew she could count on him to make things better, even if the crux of the matter itself isn’t any closer to being solved. For the moment, at least, she can afford to relax and enjoy this peace while she has it. There’s time.

-

One way or another, they manage to make it well into the evening before the conversation ends up back in more contentious waters. Thanks to a combination of her own conscious restraint and some insistent steering from Mako she’s not gone anywhere near the Marshal, her only sighting of him since the morning having been a fleeting glimpse in the mess. Although Chuck is no less intent on getting him to hear her out giving her friend a proper tour of the Dome took precedence, no need to ruin a good day if she could help it.

As there’s only so much trekking around the base before it starts to get a bit samey, though, they’d ended up staking claim to a corner in one of the rec rooms. Normally Chuck might be tempted to head back up onto the roof, but she doubts the Marshal would thank her for taking Mako up there after dark. Besides, she does have to admit that the sofa is rather more comfortable than concrete, and by the looks of it Max agrees with that assessment. He’s sprawled out, half in Mako’s lap, and making happy snuffles every few minutes when he gets another tummy rub; practically in heaven. If it were anyone else she might be jealous.

But then, partway through a story about one of the K-Science officers who apparently _talks_ to the pieces of Kaiju that he’s meant to be studying, Chuck’s sense of peace is punctured. Instinctively, she starts to tense up when Winchester comes sauntering into the room, glancing around with a definite sort of purpose that can only really mean one thing. Sure enough, she doesn’t hesitate to walk right on over, not taking any notice of the general exclusion zone that’d subconsciously formed around the two of them. Clearly not the right Hansen but apparently she’ll do.

‘I don’t suppose you’d know where your dad is?'

Because co-pilots instinctively know each other’s whereabouts all the time, of course. ‘Not right now I don’t.'

Missing the iciness of her tone, or just choosing to ignore it, the head tech is already moving on. Better things to do, after all, than waste time trying to be chummy with the obstacle daughter. ‘Well, if you see him before I do, let him know I’m looking for him.'

She doesn’t bother sticking around to hear the responding lie, which is probably just as well really. Chuck finds it impossible to resist glaring at Winchester’s back as she goes, though, wondering what it is she wants with Herc this time. There’s a knee-jerk instinct to go find him herself first, although she’s rational enough at the moment to slap that right back down.

Instead, she just sighs and slumps further in her seat. 'I swear she does it on purpose.'

'Why would she want to antagonise you?' Here Mako goes, being all reasonable and logical, as usual. 'There isn't any competition.'

Except for how there kind of is. Whatever the motive, Winchester definitely wants his attention. More of it than she's currently getting. And the daughter naturally gets in the way of that, would do even if she wasn't some kind of overly clingy shadow to boot.

And while her every instinct is to win, mark her territory and keep him to herself, there's still this sense that she shouldn't contest this. It's this stupid push-pull in her own thoughts that only complicates things further and frustrates her in the process. He'd be better off with the head tech, Chuck _knows_ that, but she's not sure she could handle it. Selflessness only goes so far, especially when they Drift together. Sometimes she thinks what a bad idea it was, agreeing to it, even though it would kill her to give any of it up.

'Sure.'

Possibly it comes out a bit petulant, which is no doubt why she gets a particularly exasperated look and a very no-nonsense tone in response. 'If it was a choice he would choose you.'

 _And he'd be wrong._ Of course, she’s too selfish to want him to choose otherwise but the thought crosses her mind nonetheless. Still, it’s hard to argue with Mako’s calm certainty, much as she’s tempted to, because at the end of the day it’s just not worth the hassle. Nod in agreement and let it go at that. Shit, they’re going to run out of uncontested subjects all too soon at this rate.

Guessing, all too correctly, that she needs some additional prodding, Mako carries on; ‘You don’t see the way he looks at you, just like the way you look at him. You’re cute together.'

Feeling the blush coming on, Chuck compensates by folding her arms and scowling at the floor. She’s never going to be allowed to live that interview down, is she? ‘ _Stop_ calling me cute.'

‘But you are.’ Mako accompanies it with one of her slyer grins, because few things seem to give her as much pleasure as this stupid teasing. At least it’s not an insult coming from her, well, she thinks so.

‘Shut up.’ The bright side, she’s reminded, about long-distance communication is that she could’ve just hung the phone up at this point. As it is she has no choice but to sit here and be subjected to this.

‘You can’t hide it.'

If there was a cushion within reaching distance Chuck would be tempted to throw it at the other girl. Not hard, just enough to get the point across. She isn’t _cute_ , damn it, she’s a Ranger. So, alright, there also happen to be some downright girly pilots in the program, but they’re still plenty tough even if you could maybe get away with calling them cute. When she’s had to fight for every inch of respect, though, it doesn’t hurt to keep as far away from any of that nonsense as possible. Even if there’s still a slightly vain streak in her that wouldn’t mind going a little more that way.

Still, it’s not like she could admit as much, or else someone might take it on themselves to pester her even more. ’There’s nothing _to_ hide.'

Whatever smart-ass comment Mako was going to come back with gets lost as she tries to, unsuccessfully, cover up a rather large yawn. Always so fussed about being polite. It’s not massively late, or else Chuck’s sure there would have been someone coming round to point out that it’s past their bedtime, but then again it hadn’t been a short flight.

‘All right,’ she gets to her feet and gives the other girl a prod, 'time to finish the tour.'

There’s something nice and empowering about being the one doing the showing around for a change. Max is happy enough to waddle along some more, even if he does slightly protest having to give up his comfy spot and tummy rubs. If she’s only managed to convince her friend of one thing, it’s clear that she’s now completely sold on the idea of dogs. Small victories.

The guest quarters are located on one of the upper levels, not so very far from her own. As a certain tech likes to gripe, it’s as if rooms are assigned so that the more important people get the ones closer to the roof and the emergency exit. Which is utter bull and he knows it, because it’s all about proximity to battle stations. Techs get the lower levels because they’re the ones who need to be on the floor of the hangar once the Kaiju alarm goes off. It’s not like anyone has time to waste once the call to deploy comes in.

It’s not such a long walk, not in the grander scale of the Shatterdome, but it’s still better to make sure that Mako doesn’t get lost. When you don’t know the place it's awfully easy to get turned around in the warren of virtually identical corridors, as she can well attest. Besides, it’s not like Max wants to say goodbye to his newest provider of tummy rubs as long as he can help it. Which is why he insists on having one last pet before he’ll give the other girl a chance to open her door.

Chuck can’t quite resist the urge to roll her eyes at the display; someone is going to be very sad when Mako leaves. ‘I think this means he’s adopted you.'

‘I’m honoured.’ As she gives Max a solemn smile and final pet it’s hard to tell if she’s being entirely serious or not. It is crystal clear, though, when she straightens up and returns to that one contentious subject, just to hammer her point home. ‘If the Marshal says I’m not ready then I am content to wait until I am.'

Biting back on the more combative responses that spring to mind - not least because the Marshal literally just left his room across the hall - Chuck crosses her arms and lowers her voice. ‘All I’m saying is that a little bit of rebellion wouldn’t hurt.'

Mako shakes her head as she steps inside, even though there’s an encouragingly sly edge to her expression. ‘Good night.'

The second that she’s sure that her friend isn’t going to pop back out and try to stop her, Chuck hightails it after Pentecost. It’s not like she’s probably going to get any other opportunity to get him alone, but forcing him not to simply walk away might well be a bit of an issue.

All too aware of her presence - and intention - the Marshal stops in his tracks before she can quite catch up and shoots a cautioning look at her. ‘This subject is still closed.'

If he thinks he can shut her down that easy then he's got another thing coming. Moving round to properly block him, insomuch as she can, Chuck makes that perfectly clear. ‘It’s not closed until you do the right thing.'

Pentecost frowns; he doesn’t like being questioned at the best of times. 'That is not for you to decide.'

'She trusts you!' Whatever the Marshal thinks about her this isn't about that. If he could just understand that this is only going to hurt Mako in the long run... 'And you're letting her down.'

This time there's that telltale twitch that lets her know that she's hit the mark. It’s not like he’d be so over-protective of Mako if she didn’t mean the world to him. But making him angry doesn't mean that he's actually taking any of this on board, not properly, not yet at least.

‘You're getting out of line, Ranger.'

Because it’s clear that she’s also getting somewhere Chuck doesn’t even think about not pushing harder. Warning or no warning. 'I'm not the one abusing my position.'

He abruptly steps closer, so that she has to properly crane her head to look up at him, while instinct almost makes her step back. Almost, because no way in hell is she backing down on this. After all, it’s true, and it’ll do him good to hear it. Even though it’s like running into a concrete wall over and over, if she repeats it often enough then just maybe the message will get through his damned pride.

‘You may have forgotten otherwise but this is a military operation and you do _not_ have the divine right to question my decisions.’ Pentecost’s voice remains steady, quiet, but it’s still bristling with a barely-contained rage. 'If you were anyone but your father’s daughter I wouldn’t hesitate to bust your inflated ego out of here for this sort of insubordination. Now I am giving you one last warning; if you can’t respect authority then you will not remain in that Jaeger, is that _clear?_ '

Honestly, Chuck’s first impulse is to push right back, the sting of the words provoking just as much anger as anything. But the threat itself is like a hard slap in the face. Because he could do it. He could, and doing so would take a real weight off the program, she doesn’t doubt it. Herc would fight any attempt to do so, she knows that, but that’s really not a road they should be going down.

As important as it is to make the Marshal understand, getting herself potentially booted out of the program is undoubtedly not the way to do it. Even though she doesn’t want to let him get away with it Chuck knows she doesn’t have much of a choice here. _Deep breath, rein it in._

Doing the smart thing, much as she might hate it, she lets her shoulders sag and lowers her eyes. ‘Yes, sir.'

‘Stick to what you’re good at.’ Any other time that might be a backhanded compliment, but not now. Expression still set in a glower, Pentecost steps around her and paces off down the corridor without another word.

Shit. That went really well, didn’t it? She is pretty damn terrible at this; honestly, her attempts at intervention only seem to have made them both even more determined to stick to their positions. Which was really not what she’d been going for, at all. Still good at pissing people off, though.

Someone she can make happy, however, is the bulldog currently bumping against her legs. It’s about time for him to be settling down for the night anyway, and she’s feeling a hell of a lot more worn out than she had a few minutes ago. So Chuck gives him a quick scratch behind the ears - comfort for one or both of them, she’s not sure which - and beats an unhappy retreat.

The light’s already on when she arrives, which is a reassurance she didn’t even know she needed. How she ever survived as long as she did without him seems like a mystery now. Her lingering frustration starts to fade, so it’s quietly that she closes the door behind her. It’s not like they ever slam well anyway.

Without any hesitation, Max goes trotting straight into the other room in search of Herc. Always has to get his hello in without delay, sappy puppy. Having slightly more restraint, she instead gets to work shucking off her boots. It’s not quite warm enough to justify less substantial footwear around the Dome, especially with the health and safety regs in force around the hangar.

When she looks up, though, her dad’s watching her from the doorway, frowning in a way that can only really mean trouble. ‘You okay?'

She’s torn between being honest and keeping up the brave face, not least because she knows she shouldn’t have pushed the Marshal as far as she did. Except that’s the only damn way to get anything through and even if she’s better than she was it’s still not like she’s really all that good at controlling her temper. Not to mention the fact that Herc’s getting far too canny at knowing when she’s not giving him the truth.

Shrugging, Chuck goes for a compromise. ‘Talked to the Marshal.'

‘Talked?’ His scepticism couldn’t be much clearer, even if he still seems more worried than outright annoyed.

Yeah, okay, probably the wrong word to use. But right now she doesn’t want to deal with his inevitable disappointment over her picking yet another fight. It wasn’t like there wasn’t a good reason for it, after all. Just unfortunate that it happens to be the operational head of the PPDC that she has this particular problem with.

Not wanting to start down this slippery slope, she goes to brush past him to the bathroom, seeing as he’s apparently done with it now. All the same, she can’t quite resist a muttered admission; ‘So maybe it was more of an _at_ than a _to_.'

‘Chuck…’ Of course he uses the growly warning tone, knowing that it’ll make her stop in her tracks and give him a chance to get a hold on her.

‘He just won’t _listen!_ '

It comes out more heated than she means it to but damn it, what else is she supposed to feel about this? Someone needs to fight Mako’s corner in all this, because she remembers all too well what it’s like to have everyone against her. None of it’s fair. She’s trying to do the right thing here and all it’s getting her is anger and disappointment.

Although he’s still taking the Marshal’s side in this, somehow, Herc makes a calm attempt to defuse her. ‘He’s just doing what he thinks is best.'

Not at all in the mood to be talked down to, she wrenches her arm free and snaps. Again. ‘Well, he’s _wrong._ '

There’s no missing the way he flinches at that and instantly Chuck feels terrible. How can he think-? This isn’t anything to do with him or what happened between them. He’s very good at putting the guilt he still feels to the back of his mind, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t as raw as ever. What she wouldn’t do to make that go away, if only she knew how.

Wanting to fix this mess she’s inadvertently made, she takes a definitive step back into his personal space and cautiously reaches out. ‘I didn’t mean-'

‘I know.’ He cuts her off with a shake of the head, but even if he does know that there’s still a definite trace of bitterness in his whole demeanour. A brief squeeze on the shoulder and he brushes her off, to finish getting ready for bed. ‘Just try to let them sort it out on their own.'

After today, and her two badly botched attempts at intervention, Chuck’s pretty sure she can commit to that. Of course, she’s not going to stop encouraging Mako, and even if she can't say anything there’s nothing to stop her glaring at the Marshal whenever she gets the opportunity. Still, it doesn’t feel good to know that she’s failed. Especially when it’s clear that her dad’s now beating himself up all over again thanks to her.

Even though that was clearly meant to be the end of the matter, she needs to do something just to make sure that he’s okay. She can handle him being annoyed at her, but this is worse. So, before she shuts herself in the bathroom - in order to bang her head against the wall a few times - she looks long and hard at his turned back.

‘Dad?'

Unhappy or not, that doesn’t stop him responding. He never ignores her, not when they’re alone anyway. ‘Yeah?'

That increasingly familiar twisty feeling in her stomach makes itself known again. Chuck’s lost count of the number of different looks he gives her that make her knees go all weak like this. It’s getting pathetic, and makes her feel kind of awkward on top of everything else so that she has to work harder just to get her next word out.

‘I… uh… Thanks.’ _For believing in me._ She doesn’t have to say any more, confident that he understands what it is she’s thanking him for and hoping that it makes at least some of the hurt go away. He deserves better, without a doubt, but she’s damned if she won’t try her best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stubbornness certainly seems to be a rather prolific trait within the ranks of the PPDC; which is great when it comes to fighting monsters, of course, but maybe not so much when it comes to disagreeing with each other. Probably a good thing the Marshal doesn't have to stick around in Sydney for long.
> 
> Many thanks for stopping by, as always.


	29. Evening the Score

There isn’t really such a thing as a working week within the Shatterdome, because it’s not like the Kaiju are obliging and only try to smash things up from 9-5 Monday to Friday. Even so, that doesn’t mean that the weekend has been allowed to sink completely out of usage. Things get a bit quieter on Sundays, the only real work that gets done is the stuff that’s routine or time sensitive, though everyone’s still quite ready to scramble at the first blast of the alarm. Which tends to make Saturday evenings slightly different, as if the Dome at large is just that little bit more at ease. Hence the existence of the unofficial film night.

That's Kaia’s brainchild, very much so, and Vulcan’s lead pilot goes about running it in her own enthusiastic way. In order to make things democratic - and because nobody else other than maybe Lucas would want to put up with her film taste week in week out - the Ranger puts on a whole song and dance during dinner that involves choosing from a box of suggestions. While it’s, sort of, fair that does have the side-effect of making it a real crapshoot. There’s enough diversity within the Dome that the choice of the week could just as easily be cringy romantic comedy nonsense as it could be epic fantasy or some obscure arthouse flick that only two people have heard of.

Last time Chuck had been convinced to go along it’d been one of those Fast and Furious films, and she’d spent most of the time critiquing the cars and the physics. Which, although amusing to Jack, who’d all-too-happily joined in, hadn’t overly endeared her to the rest of the room. Even though you _can’t_ drag a ten tonne safe any distance with a pair of random Chargers. Which is really fucking basic, and how many of those things have they made now?

So, not too fussed by the theatrics going on at the next table, she pokes at her rice and tries to pretend that she’s not twitchier than normal tonight. Which is only partly to do with the presence of a certain head tech, who had arrived at _just_ the right time to invite herself to join them. She’s honestly torn between finishing faster to not have to sit through this or dragging it out so that he won’t end up leaving with the woman.

The leave early option gets a strong boost when Winchester laughs loudly and she only just narrowly resists the urge to openly glare at the woman. Having to play nice is tough, but it’s not fair to try and see off someone whose company her dad clearly likes. She just has to remember what Mako said about this not being a competition. Which is just so much easier said than done when there’s _clearly_ an attempt going on to muscle her out of the picture. Screw it, the theatrics are better than this.

For some inexplicable reason, although possibly because she’s technically higher on the food-chain and jumps up before everyone’s finished eating, Kaia always seems to have a bit of an audience. Her co-pilot isn’t overly rapt, keeping his head down and potentially entertaining thoughts of pulling the Kiwi back into her seat. It’s another of those clear differences between the two, the ones that make people wonder just how the pair of them manage to Drift together half so well as they do.

In spite of her ready audience, though, the older Ranger keeps shooting glances around the room and all too quickly catches her eye. Naturally seeing that as an expression of actual interest she decides to come right on over, to capitalise on this newfound sign of involvement. Even though Chuck’s not exactly stand-offish she wouldn’t really consider herself to be friends with the other Rangers, especially not when they still sometimes slip back into treating her differently. But then there’s also times where it’s clear that they’re trying to be more inclusive and she lets herself loosen up a little. _Don’t give anyone else reason to want you gone._

‘Good evening.’ Leaning, or to be more accurate posing, against the table Kaia solemnly presents her with the suggestion box in such a serious way that it’s hard to tell how much of this is really just for show. ‘Seeing as you’re nice and impartial, would you be a pal and do the honours?'

‘You’re not afraid I’m going to try and fix it?’ There’s no harm in playing along and getting herself more into the other Ranger’s good books, even if Chuck struggles to match her energy.

‘Of course not, unlike your troublemaker boyfriend.’

It’s impossible not to respond to that with a glare. To her embarrassment, and Jack’s annoying amusement, half the Dome seems to have come under the impression that they’re dating. Or at least heading that way. And even if Kaia doesn’t mean it seriously the implication is still irritating as all hell. The only saving grace is that it at least means nobody’s twigged about the way she looks at Herc.

Obliging anyway, just to get this over with faster, she whips out the topmost slip without ceremony and hands it over. Even though it’s never helped to date she still accompanies the action with a mutter of; ‘ _Not_ my boyfriend.'

‘Perfect.’ The Kiwi chooses not to acknowledge that, accepting the slip and heading back to the rest of her audience. Which is a good thing, considering the exaggerated noise of displeasure Kaia makes when she finally checks the slip. ‘Oh, for crying out- Mad Max, _again_. Who keeps putting these back in here?'

There's definite sniggers in amongst the few cheers, no doubt the reason that a few of them seem to stick the same suggestion in the box week after week. This is already the third time it’s been pulled out since she arrived and apparently the series has cropped up reliably ever since the idea was first instated. When in the business of protecting the world from Kaiju people have to take humour wherever they can find it, even in the smallest, stupidest things.

‘Crazy Aussies, I despair of the lot of you.’ Kaia huffs, making it hard to tell if she’s actually annoyed or not. Though as she carries the box back off to its not-so-official designated place she mutters in a pointedly loud way. ‘Maybe you’ll leave off once you’ve all sat through Babe five more times.'

Repetition aside, it’s not a bad choice; just maybe not the one that Chuck would’ve gone for herself. Apocalyptic stuff doesn’t appeal to her all that much these days, even if it does have some rather cool visuals and sweet vehicles. But, even if she felt like finding out just how permanent that ban was, her final decision on the matter is made for her.

‘You going to come along this time, then?’ Of course Winchester jumps on the opportunity. Clearly it’s a long-standing request, her tone casual but with that faint undertone of something else.

Herc barely pauses to consider that. ‘Why not?’

She gets a moment of attempting not to openly frown down at her tray before his foot knocks deliberately against hers. It’s not a subtle telling-off, this time, and rather the precursor to a question.

‘What d’you think?’

If Chuck was in a vindictive mood she’d agree purely out of spite, but she’s not fired up enough for that, instead being in one of those moods where she’s capable of putting his best interests first. Besides, if she stays out of this then maybe she has a better chance of getting him to herself tomorrow. That’d be an okay trade-off.

So she simply shakes her head. ‘Nah, I’m sure it’ll be back on soon enough.'

Fortunately, in spite of having spent so much time chatting, Winchester has already finished up. Mission accomplished, there’s little reason for her to hang around. ‘Right, I’ve got to get those requisition orders filed before the rest of the shift clocks off. I’ll save you one of the good seats.'

If there’s a silver-lining it’s that Herc doesn’t watch the woman go beyond the goodbye, but maybe that’s because he can tell that she’s staring at him again. Dropping her eyes back towards the tray, Chuck pokes at her food a bit more, until he kicks her again. Yeah, yeah, don’t make him sit there all evening, she knows.

Nervous in spite of herself, she lets the silence stretch out for a bit longer before finally coming round to the question she’s been sitting on all through dinner. ‘So… um… tomorrow. I was wondering if you might wanna, I don’t know, go somewhere?'

 _Smooth, Chuck, smooth_. It makes her cringe internally as soon as it’s out, hoping that sheer force of will is enough to keep the visible embarrassment at bay. Then she goes and makes it even worse by starting to backpedal. ‘I mean, only if you’re not busy or anything…'

Even though she manages to get a hold of herself, sort of, and trails off he doesn’t say anything straight away. Instead, he waits until she chances a glance up, and his expression really says it all. Like she’s silly for thinking that she needs to ask. Which is nice and reassuring, but come on, it’s dangerous to go assuming these things. Just because she’d drop pretty much anything for him that doesn’t mean he’d do the same.

‘I’d already assumed we were.'

Hearing that eases some of the tension in her stomach, although she quickly ducks her head to try and hide any relief that might be obvious on her face. A pointless exercise, really, considering their Drift connection but she does it anyway. Nobody likes being an open book, especially when that could mean the end of everything good in her life.

Before either of them can go on, Jack drops himself onto the bench next to her with the sigh of someone who wants everyone to know they’ve done a full day’s work. To further that impression he’s also got an almost artfully messy thing going on, as if it’ll only be clear that he hasn’t been slacking off if he manages to get at least some grease or oil smeared on him. Deciding that it’s not enough for just him to look a state, the tech immediately reaches over and ruffles her hair. ‘Good for you, eating your greens.'

‘Oh, fuck off.’ Chuck has no trouble batting him away, although there’s not really any venom in the retort. Even if he tends to be a bit obnoxious about it in certain company she knows that he means well.

‘Only if you make me.’ Grinning, Jack's all too happy to act as if there’s one less person sitting at this end of the table. It’s hard to decide sometimes if it’s better when he’s flat out ignoring her dad or actively trying to bait him. Neither’s exactly perfect, though.

Herc, on the other hand, never completely ignores the tech. Even if he makes an effort to only glare when he thinks she’s not looking, it’s undeniably there. There aren’t many people her dad doesn’t bother to disguise his displeasure around, and it’s a club that she knows her friend has no real objections to being in. On the contrary, Jack seems pretty proud of it. Maybe if he could stop being an arse to her dad for five minutes she might have a chance at putting an end to this stupid cold war of theirs, but it’s a boneheaded grudge he seems to have no intention of dropping.

‘Is this your way of asking me to deck you?’ She tries to put as much warning into it as she can without being too obvious. After all, it’s not like she couldn’t follow through.

That cows him, but not sufficiently so, because even though he makes no further attempt to mess her up Jack can’t resist throwing in a bit of a jab nonetheless. ‘So mean, I think someone might be rubbing off on you.'

Inevitably this is the point where Herc gets up to leave, which isn’t a retreat so much as stepping back from the potential conflict before it boils over and giving her some space in the bargain. Even though they seem to end up spending a rather high proportion of their time together - which is probably in no small part thanks to the residual effects of the Drift - it’s healthy to leave each other alone. He’s better at it than she is, the whole not sticking to each other's shadows like glue thing, which she supposes she ought to be grateful for.

Still, Chuck swears there’s something almost territorial in the way he growls; ‘I’ll see you back at the room.'

‘See you there.'

On reflex she watches him go, eyes not leaving him until he’s out of the room. Which would probably be fine if it weren’t for the fact that she has a rather observant tech sat right next to her.

Keen to correct her wandering attention, Jack nudges her insistently in the side. ‘You’re kind of pathetic sometimes, you know that?'

Oh boy, does she. Not that Chuck can admit as much, promptly cuffing him around the head. Just because she’s pathetic that doesn’t mean she wants to have it pointed out to her. Much less in public. At least Herc never seems to be too bothered by it, though, if he even notices.

-

She’s not sure quite who it is that wakes up first, all she knows is that she doesn't want to. Even though the job requires being up and active at the first sounding of the alarm, Chuck isn't generally at her best when she's just woken up. It's a dangerous time when she hasn't got a drill or actual Kaiju to be focusing on. That and being prone to insomnia tends to make a person much more protective of their sleep when they do get it.

Her first instinct is to turn over and tug the covers tighter but then the light flicks on. Not at full blast, thank fuck, but right now any light is too much light. Groaning, she pulls the pillow over her head. Not yet.

Max, on the other hand, has no real problem with getting up now. His snuffles get noticeably louder as he perks up, nosing around and waiting for his due attention. Which he doesn’t have to wait all that long for, with Herc already awake enough to give him what he wants. She appreciates that for a moment, listening to the quiet murmurs and almost starting to drift back off. Right up until there’s suddenly a dog in her bunk.

Her first reaction is a sort of inarticulate noise of protest and confusion, even as she instinctively gets an arm around Max just to keep him from falling straight off. ‘Uh, why-?'

Herc's completely unrepentant, as if there’s nothing at all questionable about sticking Max on her like this. ‘Someone needed to wake you up properly.'

‘No.’ Even if Chuck is still a bit sleepy and confused that doesn’t mean she can’t see that rather flawed logic. Which is why she makes sure to give him a mild glare for emphasis. ‘No, you didn’t.'

Either it’s not strong enough or he just dismisses it anyway, responding with a disarming smile before heading for the bathroom. ‘G’morning to you too.’

She’s not sure whether to be suspicious about his good mood or not. Don’t get her wrong, it’s nice - or it will be once she’s properly up - but she’s still a little worried about where this might be coming from. Can’t let that spoil her own mood, though, it wouldn’t be fair to bring him down. So she just hugs Max close, him having already burrowed into the sheets with her, and tries not to listen too hard for the sound of the shower.

If they can spend more time together away from the Dome and the Drift and all that entails maybe it’ll be easier to make herself feel the right things again. Remind herself that they’re family and nothing more, never will be. Well, that or just give herself extra opportunity to moon over him. Either way it’s a good thing, especially seeing as Max doesn’t really get all that much proper time outside.

Still, when she has to worry about said puppy staying on the mattress it's impossible to relax enough to go back to sleep. And, well, if Dad's already up then she shouldn't really stay in bed. Not today anyway. At least it's not too hard getting Max to stay put until she can lift him safely down, wriggly as he is this morning.

On reflection, and checking the clock, it's not all that early. Not in terms of Shatterdome time. They haven't talked any more about what the plan is today, Chuck's just kind of assuming that he's got an idea. That's the fair thing, seeing as it's his day after all. She might have an idea of what she wants, but it's best not to dwell on that. Stay realistic, don’t get any ideas; that’s how she has to get through this whole thing.

That sense of certainty leaves her as soon as she pulls open her locker, though, crouching down to retrieve the rather uninspiring package. Wrapping is another one of those things she isn’t really any good at, along with pretty much everything else domestic that’s not at least sort of essential. She’s in the middle of reconsidering it all over again when Max starts pawing to go out. Perfect distraction.

‘All right, hold on.'

There isn’t really enough time to get dressed properly, though she’s kind of used to it by now. Even if she’s not overly fond of running around the Dome in her pyjamas. Pulling her jacket on over the baggy t-shirt and hoping for the best, Chuck grabs his leash. It doesn’t help that there’s an increasingly impatient bulldog dancing round her feet all the while.

Without entirely thinking about it, she pushes on the bathroom door, instantly regretting that with the realisation that Herc hadn't bothered locking it. Before she can be tempted to take a look, she clears her throat and somehow manages to call; ‘Just taking Max out.'

She’s pretty sure that gets an acknowledgement, although she can’t quite make it out, sliding the door shut again at speed. On impulse she leaves the package on his bunk, deciding that it’s better to get it over with before she can change her mind. It’s no big deal.

The toiletry needs of dogs are pretty much the last thing that the Shatterdome’s designed to handle, but they’d worked things out easy enough. Even if sometimes she really does think hard about just letting him take a piss outside the Commander’s office. But while people are willing to forgive Max just about anything there’s still a line they have to toe, hence why she has to shepherd him outside first thing in the morning. Not every day, though, because her dad naturally insists on them taking turns, even if it’s often more of a case of which of them gets there first.

By the time she gets back - which admittedly isn’t all that long, Max certainly doesn’t beat around the bush - Herc’s already out of the shower and dressed. Efficient as ever. Shame, though it’s not like she hasn’t had enough chances to gawk, and likely plenty more to come. What’s less of a shame is the fact that he’s wearing the shirt she’d left for him. Having disregarded Mako’s horrendous suggestion, she’d decided to play it safe and got him a Henley, because failing at everything else that’s something useful and so what if she also really likes how he looks in them? So, either he likes it or has made a decision to pretend that he does in order to spare her feelings. She wouldn’t put it past him to do that, even if it’d be inevitable that she’d find out the lie sooner or later.

‘Nice choice.’ He smiles at her, all pleased and not disappointed and clearly not an act. ‘Thank you.'

It’s more of a relief than she’d admit, even if she still feels like it was a cop-out. So Chuck just shrugs it off, mumbling as she turns away and self-consciously busies herself with getting ready. ‘Don’t mention it.’

-

Chuck thinks she can see a pattern emerging here. Not that she’s got a problem with it, because, well, Max is over the moon. Most of his walks are inside the Dome these days, so getting to come somewhere outside, somewhere completely _new_ gets him all kinds of excited. And, to her satisfaction, it’s not overly busy.

This time they’ve come a bit further afield, which has the added benefit of taking them away from the tourist map and the bustle of the city centre. Not away from water, though, given that the prominent feature of the reserve is the none-too-small lake sat in the middle of it. Which has absolutely no chance of spewing out a Kaiju, of course, but that old wariness is just a little bit too deeply ingrained for her to entirely dismiss. While she’s not particularly up on her plants - she can tell which ones are eucalyptus but that’s about it - and was always more of a machine person than a tree person Chuck can still admit that it’s really pretty nice here. Relaxing.

The only real downside is that the air’s a little still today. That was one thing that Perth did have going for it, a moderating breeze that kept things hot but not stifling. Unfortunately, Chuck thinks she might have gotten too used to it; that or everything just seems warmer after Alaska. At least she’s never in danger of forgetting sunscreen, having had it drilled into her at an early age just how easily her complexion burns.

Which is all his fault, and something he seems to feel somewhat responsible for. That or it’s just him doing the overly parental thing again, coming round in order to give her another once over. ‘All set?'

It doesn’t feel like that really needs a response, although she does make one quick check just for the sake of it and nods.

Max is already finding his own way, scampering off up the trail and then abruptly stopping to sniff at a plant that’s clearly every dog’s first stop. Doggy business aside, the place is pleasant enough, the sunlight mottled by the trees and the only noises those that belong to nature. Strangely intimate. The ground's relatively flat, not too challenging, but even so neither of them’s in a hurry to get anywhere. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it, taking their time?

They only pass one or two other groups, and though she’s pretty sure there was at least some questioning staring going on nobody actually tries to start a conversation. Which is good. Already she’s had to deal with the fact that she’s kind of famous these days, and honestly, she’s not quite sure what she thinks of it. One thing she does know is that today she wants to be alone with him and not feel like she’s being judged.

In a case of impeccable timing it’s around about noon that they end up at one of the rest areas right on the shore of the reservoir. Naturally, it’s Herc who decides that it’s time for a stop and steers her over to a slightly more secluded spot a little further away from the trail itself. While she could have just as easily carried on a good while longer - if not all the way back to the start - that doesn’t stop Chuck flopping down on the rock, which is already heated through from the sunshine. On second thought, the longer it takes to get back, the longer she has to enjoy having him to herself. And hey, a little bit of sunbathing doesn’t hurt.

Having none of her worries, Max naturally heads straight for the water. It’s hard not to smile at how excited he is, dipping his paws in and instantly pulling them back out. At least he doesn’t mind amusing himself for a while, although she might be a little less happy if he ends up getting her wet as well.

‘Tempted?’ Without her entirely noticing it, Herc’s sat himself down right next to her, because that damn Drift has apparently screwed up all sense of personal space around here.

‘Uh…’ In the extra seconds it takes him to clarify for her by nodding in the direction of the lake Chuck has the feeling that she looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights. And then it’s a matter of damage control, shaking her head too fast like that’ll cover up the telling hesitation. ‘No.'

‘Why not?’ If he’s not being serious then he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it, like suggesting that she get in the water is perfectly reasonable. ‘Looks warm enough.'

Sure it does. But, ignoring the fact that she isn’t exactly dressed for a swim, it just seems like an all-around bad idea. Too much like the setup for some dangerous fantasies. No way is she stripping down out here, not even if he asks nicely.

Lacking the ability to explain most of that reasoning, she has to settle for a fast deflection. ‘You going first then?'

‘That depends.’ It’s clearly a challenge, but the terms behind it are a bit up in the air. Most likely he’s just trying to get under her skin, even if that apparently involves him putting on that damn seductive voice of his. 'Not scared, are you?'

‘Course not.’ Not of the water, that’s for sure. ‘Anyway, it’s not like i packed my swimwear.’

That does give him pause, just not for long. ‘That shouldn’t stop you.'

Shit, there goes the blush. Why does he have to push her buttons like this? It’s playing havoc with her feelings and it’s really not fair. Although at least this time it could just as easily be plain old embarrassment rather than her unspeakable feelings. Still, she doesn't dignify that with more than a disgruntled mutter. ‘And people call _me_ the bad influence.'

Mercifully, he leaves the idea there, because Chuck definitely couldn’t handle it if he decided to go ahead himself. Well, yeah, seeing him in less is always welcome, but she’s not sure how long her resistance could hold out under such trying circumstances. So it’s a bit of a relief when he instead prods her to accept a sandwich. Lunch, right. Definitely won’t need to worry about swimming after this.

Of course, as soon as he gets a whiff of the fact that there’s food to hand, Max comes trotting right back over. Even though he’s slightly soggy there’s no resisting those eyes, not when he pushes his head onto her lap, so he has half the sandwich without her really having to think about it.

Not quite so susceptible, Herc makes an exasperated noise. ‘He’s meant to be the one on a diet here.'

Obviously she knows that, but if anyone’s allowed to decide when to give him scraps it’s her. ‘And he’s getting lots of exercise today; aren’t you?’

‘That’s not the point.’ There’s that no-nonsense growl in his voice and he’s giving her one of _those_ looks, a mixture of frustration and worry that sets her alarms off.

Okay, fine, no more arguing. Doesn’t stop her giving Max's fur another ruffle in silent protest, glad that someone around here never questions her. Besides, she wasn’t going to give him anymore anyway.

Rather than letting her dad have the chance to decide that he wants to follow through on the subject - which is a terrible idea without a doubt - she quickly pushes the conversation in a different direction. Not that she has much time to decide on the safest topic to distract him with, but anything is better than the alternative.

‘So, how was last night then?’ Well, Chuck has never claimed to be _good_ at small talk.

It’s clear that he isn’t fooled, not for one second, but in the interests of peace he lets it slide. For now at least he seems to think this isn’t an issue worth really fighting over. Which is a relief - questions like that take her back to things she doesn’t like to revisit - until she remembers the new can of worms she’s possibly just opened.

Rather less concerned by the subject, he gives a sort of half-shrug. ‘Wasn’t anything special. Honestly, I’d’ve liked to hear your commentary.'

Whether that’s an actual dig or not it doesn’t matter, he deserves the punch in the arm either way. It happened _one_ time and no-one’ll let her live it down. ‘I don’t think anyone else would agree with that.'

‘You might be surprised.’ Herc isn’t willing to let her have that point, despite the fact that it's pretty damn evident. To make things worse he decides to take the parental route again; ‘It’s good to socialise, you know.'

 _Sure._ ‘Not when it makes people want to punch me.'

He knows better than to argue with that, both of them remembering all too well the last time she was at the wrong end of a punch. Still, that’s not enough to derail his point. ‘That’s not an excuse to keep almost everyone at arm’s length.'

‘I don’t.’ Chuck only says it because he seems to expect some sort of answer, that and she doesn’t really want this line of conversation to continue either. It’s not like she really has to exert all that much effort to put people off, anyway. Sure, all Max has to do is look at someone to win them over, but he’s a dog and she’s… her.

‘All I’m saying is that it seems like it’d be better for you not to feel so isolated, sweetheart. You shouldn’t feel like you have to constantly prove yourself.’ When he puts it like that he makes it sound so easy, except for how in reality it’s so much harder. Even with the Drift there are still some things he doesn’t understand, although in his defence it’s not for a lack of trying.

‘Okay, I get it.’ Turning away, Chuck focuses intently on giving Max a belly-rub instead of letting any of those thoughts out. Not yet, if ever. Shouldn’t spoil this by being all sullen and unhappy, but it’s hard to help it. She’s shitty, she _knows_.

It’s hard to decide if she should be pleased or not that he doesn’t say anything else. Not pushing her further and just letting the silence stretch out. But at the end of the day this awkwardness is her fault, she’d started it and he was just trying to be reasonable and shit. So really it’s on her to smooth this back over as best she can.

Forcing her hand, Max jumps to his feet and barks, waddling away at full speed to introduce himself to a dog that’s appeared by the shore. It’s funny, she’d almost forgotten that they were in a public space right now, which really isn’t the time to be having uncomfortable conversations.

Keeping an eye on the errant bulldog, just in case he manages to get himself into some sort of trouble, she tries a sly half-smile. The faster this can be put behind them the better. ‘Looks like the water's definitely out now.'

That was the right thing to say, judging by the definite promise that creeps into his expression, replacing any lingering frustration. ‘Next time then.'

Enticing as the suggestion is, she has no intention of ever letting that happen. Not outside of her dreams anyway. Because it’s just asking for trouble and not helping her with the whole 'stop thinking about him like that’ resolution, which hasn’t been going well anyway but that’s beside the point. That said, she also has the terrible feeling that he might hold her to it, and even then she can’t deny how good it is to have just that suggestion of a next time.

-

The sun’s gone down by the time they get back to the Dome, and even though she’s kind of worn out it’s only in a good way. Virtually an entire day to themselves, and she behaved the entire time. Not one slip-up. If she hadn’t spent quite so much time staring at him Chuck might have been able to pretend that she’d made some progress. As it is, she’s just gone and gotten some more fuel for her dirty mind, so her only hope is that she’s spent enough time out in the sun to skip straight to the dreamless stage of sleep tonight.

Evenings tend to be one of the busier times in the garage and even more so on the weekends, on account of more people having free time or just wanting to maximise their day off by dragging their feet before clocking back in. But when she jumps out of the truck it’s pretty damn deserted, not another soul in sight even though it’s not _that_ late. Which is nice, a tiny bit more breathing space before it’s back to business as usual. Still, she’s had enough time off, can’t let herself lose focus; it doesn’t matter what he says, there’s still too much to prove.

Hearing the sigh she hadn’t meant to let out, he comes round to her side, with a questioning look. ‘Not too worn out, are you?'

‘No.’ Which is kind of a lie, and they both know it. But it’s not like her to admit to weakness, not while she’s in control of herself anyway, so she quickly turns it back on him. Not that she really needs to ask. ‘You holding up alright?'

‘I’m not that old.’ Herc seems to edge closer into her personal space, although it’s so slightly that she’s not sure if she’s imagining it or not. 'We should do this more often.'

‘Oh?’ At least Chuck thinks she manages to keep it offhand, rather than betraying just how much she likes the confirmation that he appreciated this time as well. Uncomfortable conversation aside. 'Maybe next time I should choose though?'

‘Really, is that how it works?'

Hoping that she’s not walking right into a trap, she shrugs slowly. ‘Well, we’re not exactly even, are we?'

If he wants to be stubborn and settle this in the kwoon she's more than ready, not least because they're back on level pegging yet again and she is seriously overdue to take the lead. Though she could swear he's cheating, always seeming to find some underhanded way to distract her whenever she gets close to bagging that extra victory.

Case in point, he closes the space between them just that little bit more, keeping her back pressed against the door and leaving no real room for manoeuvre. And even though they’re plenty close a lot of the time there’s something slightly different in the air this time, which feels too tangible to just be her imagining things. Unless she’d fallen asleep on the drive back without realising it.

‘Alright...’ The word’s low, a breath that ghosts across her skin. For a long moment they hold eye contact, before he breaks it to press his lips to her cheek. Brief but undeniably real and over too quickly. ‘Let’s call that even.'

He’s already walking away before her brain starts to work again, blood too busy rushing to other areas of her body. At least it stops her doing anything stupid, such as acting on the urge to catch him up and just go for it. Shit, she wants to be uneven again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess we can call that progress. Except for this whole not kissing properly nonsense, that is. How much more blatant do these two need to be before they actually twig?
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, as always.


	30. Lightning Strike

From there it kind of becomes this _thing_ they have. Every so often he takes her off site, claiming it’s good for her ‘perspective’ the one time that she makes the mistake of questioning it. Over time it turns gradually more regular, until it’s this standing arrangement that they don’t even have to discuss. And shit, if it doesn’t only go and make things worse.

More and more there seem to be these moments, where for just a few seconds she’s almost positive that it’s not just her projecting these feelings. But as much as she hopes - silently pleads - they’re only ever that, fleeting moments that never turn into anything else. Long looks, lingering touches, teasing comments; none of it amounts to anything and it’s driving her progressively crazier. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s just that she’s cracking and turning completely innocent stuff into something more, those dreams bleeding through into reality because she’s just completely screwed up.

Which isn't a particularly fun thought to be stuck with. Chuck ends up in the gym more often than not when her head starts to get too confused. That’s the way to deal with things, just work harder and block it all out. Take all that frustration and turn it into something constructive, or _destructive_ depending on opinion. Still, she’s in control. She doesn’t have a choice not to be.

Two more attacks pass her by, the first getting taken down by Crimson Typhoon a few miles out of Shanghai and the next swimming straight for South America. So by the end of the summer she’s still sat here without a kill - or even a second live drop - to speak of. And doesn’t that make her feel so damn wonderful? Which is why she can’t help being a little uneasy when Herc brings up the subject of leave. Because what has she really done to deserve a break? And if they go then that could well be another kill she misses out on, because it’s been a good few weeks since the last one and that’s something she knows she can’t afford.

Seeing as the Shatterdome has to maintain a state of constant readiness at least one Jaeger team has to be available for deployment at all times. And given that Vulcan’s pilots had been practically tied to the Dome since the start of the year it’d made sense to let them disappear off over the Christmas period. Honestly, Chuck had been more comfortable staying put then anyway, it made the whole thing a lot less intense and potentially awkward than it could’ve been. But that means it’s been some months for her dad now without more than the odd day off so she can’t bring herself to argue, pushing those thoughts down as far as she can.

Besides, although nobody explicitly says it, the fact is that it wouldn't be an entirely good idea for them to be Drifting at the moment anyway. Certain memories are too close to the surface for comfort, and she can see that Herc needs to be away from here just for a little while. Strange to think that it’s been nearly a whole year since that shit-storm.

-

Clouds are building on the horizon. A dark mass of grey rolling in off the Pacific that she does not like the look of, at all. Fuck’s sake. The first time they’re actually going on proper leave and the weather decides to do that? Okay, so maybe the heat’s been getting a little heavy today but those better just be a quick shower that cools things down and then clears right off. Chuck frowns at them, even as she lounges back to enjoy the sun they’ve still got while it lasts.

'Looking forward to it that much, huh?' It's hard to tell how serious the question is, not least because Jack knows that she's feeling some sense of hesitation about this business. He just doesn't know the why, and he'd absolutely flip if he did.

Coming up here had been his idea, in order to make the most of the sun as well as getting in some quality time before she heads off. The deck’s private but not too private, even though she’s pretty sure she’d heard someone calling it _romantic_ and seriously? It’s almost as bad as the stuff on the forums, not that she’s had the nerve to go looking on there for herself since she became a talking point. Her own mind has more than enough fuel on its own, thank you. But yeah, she also happens to like it up here in the open air. No ulterior motives involved, whatever people want to think.

Herc’s busy dealing with some pre-leave stuff downstairs so it could still be a while before they hit the road. Hopefully it’s not too far, wherever his place actually is, because she isn’t too fond of the idea of being cooped up for long when it’s kind of hot out. While it’s one of those things that’s never really come up she can pretty safely say that it's not going to be anywhere near their old home. That’s something he hadn’t held onto and she doesn’t blame him. It’ll be interesting to find out, anyway. This whole thing’s certainly going to be interesting.

Problem is, the longer she has to think about the fact that she's going to be spending so much uninterrupted time with her dad the more opportunity she has to worry about how badly she could screw it up. Nice as it will be to be able to keep her guard down for so long that could just end up creating more problems. Chuck can’t let herself get too relaxed.

Rather than going into any of that, though, she takes the conversation in the other direction. ‘Storm's brewing.'

Disappointed that that’s the best he’s getting out of her, Jack pokes his foot against her leg. 'It just better not mess with my flight.'

Said flight isn’t until late, partly because it’s cheaper and partly because the tech prefers to sleep while he travels. That’s a journey that Chuck definitely doesn’t envy him, her memories of public planes having gotten no fonder with time. Though it’s still a bit weird to think of him being back in Perth without her, that part of her life seeming so distant now.

Thinking along the same lines, and keen to talk about something other than the weather, he adds; ‘I’ll tell your gran you don’t say hi.’

‘As if she’d care.’

It’s been almost a year since the two of them last spoke; there hasn’t been one word since she left for the Academy and Chuck thinks they probably both prefer it that way. Especially knowing the interference that the woman had been running to keep her away from her dad. Healthier for everyone involved to just ignore each other from now until forever. Maybe it’s sad that their relationship ended up being so toxic, it wasn’t always bad after all and Mum wouldn’t have wanted that. Really that’s her fault, isn’t it?

‘She fucking should.’ Jack goes from zero to righteously indignant in the drop of a hat, which is really something she should've known better than to provoke. Even though _he_ was the one who brought it up in the first place. ‘After everything-'

This isn’t making anything better, so she leans over and slaps a hand over his mouth. ‘I’m not her problem anymore, so leave it.'

Seeing as they’re not going to see each other again until he gets back in a week she’d really rather they didn’t end on a sour note. Clearly, he shares the opinion, and whatever else Jack is he’s still good at smoothing things over. So, even if he definitely doesn’t agree with dropping the subject, he rolls his eyes and bats her hand away.

‘You’re just salty coz you’re going to miss me.'

‘Yeah, _no_.’ It’s just a few days and she’s survived well enough without him for a whole lot longer.

‘Aw,’ Jack leans closer and flicks the brim of her cap, 'and I thought we had something special, _girlfriend_.'

That does it. It’s not like he doesn’t expect it, but that doesn’t mean he’s in any way ready when she pounces on him. Build aside, there’s nothing he’s got on her. Doesn’t stop him putting up a bit of a fight, though, even if the end result’s kind of inevitable. She’s a Ranger, for goodness sake, and there’s only one person allowed to pin her anyway.

Still, their tussle lasts a good minute. Mostly because Chuck wants to give him a bit of a chance before she wrestles him into submission. Before she’d hit her growth spurt a couple of years back it had been him who’d won any scuffles - usually when he was trying to keep something out of her reach like an asshole. That and her training had ended up making her into a much more efficient grappler.

Once she’s got him trapped, one arm twisted behind his back, she asks; ‘You were saying?'

For all that he’s pinned he doesn’t really break his grin. ‘Show-off.'

Maybe she is, but that’s kind of the point so she goes right ahead and adds a bit more pressure. Have to make sure he remembers who’s the boss after all. ‘Can’t hear you.’

‘Come on, that all you got, Ranger?’ Some people just never know when to quit. Or, in Jack’s case, he knows but wants to push her further anyway.

And who is she to say no to a challenge like that? It’s his own damn fault for wanting to rile her up with that annoying nickname. He gets far too much of a kick out of indulging that stupid speculation for her liking. At least he's got the sense of self-preservation not to have called her that within hearing range of Herc, though.

‘Had enough?’ The smirk on her face possibly slightly undermines the intimidating effect, although she thinks that's already a lost cause as far as the tech's concerned.

‘I guess that- Ouch,’ he attempts to shrug only to find that his current position really doesn’t allow for that sort of movement. ‘That depends...'

Quite what conditions his apparent surrender depend on she never finds out, as they both get distracted by the very distinct sounds of Max trying to hurry over. Obviously, he wants to join in the tussle, as usual, but seeing as none of them quite trust him being loose up here he’s stuck straining against the leash as best he can. Fortunately, a stocky bulldog, however keen to get somewhere, isn’t quite a match for Herc. Who is quite content with sticking to a slightly more sedate pace.

Rather than letting Jack up straight away, she gives him one last squeeze, just to make it clear that he’s only getting out of this because time’s up. ‘Consider yourself lucky.’

‘Whatever you say, hot-stuff.'

Though the angle of the sun means that she can’t make out Herc’s expression she’s pretty sure he’s glaring. If the temperature out here just fell a few degrees it’s got nothing to do with that approaching weather front.

Before anyone can start anything, Chuck cuts straight to the chase, even as she gives Max a scratch between his ears. ‘We ready to go?'

‘All set.’ He nods, doing a particularly bad job of not being gruff, and offers his free hand to help her back to her feet.

It’s an offer she accepts without having to think about it, even though she’d probably make a point of getting up herself if it were anyone else. He seems to grip her a little tighter than strictly necessary but lets go again fast enough, despite the fact that she half expects him not to. Progress? Not likely, seeing as it’s clear he doesn’t want to hang around any longer than he has to and definitely isn’t going to acknowledge the tech beyond the odd unfriendly look.

Still, she gives Jack a pointed look, hoping that he won’t remember to go give her gran grief and half-wishing that she could keep a proper eye on him. ‘You stay out of trouble.'

‘Right back at you.’ He grins, in the ignoring mood again, although it softens just a bit when he adds; ‘Just make sure you actually do rest up, okay?'

She really wishes Herc wasn’t so obviously listening, he ends up worrying about her enough without the tech encouraging it along. Fuck’s sake, she can look after herself now. Not that she can say that, having to make do with a final poke for the road and a cursory; ‘Course.'

But, Jack being Jack he still wants to have the last word. Waiting until she’s gone a safe distance, he calls after her; ‘See you when I get back, girlfriend!'

It should probably be worrying, the fact that their reaction is as in sync as any Drift hangover. Much as she’s tempted to march back over there and whack the tech for being such a total idiot, though, Chuck has to make do with giving her dad a firm push in the other direction. If he keeps on rising to the bait then that’s only going to encourage Jack to do it again. And even if getting what’s coming to him might well put an end to it she would really rather not have to sort out that mess.

-

At least some of the tension lifts from Herc once they’re on the road. More than a little of it has nothing whatsoever to do with a certain technician, something that has been building for some days now. He’s been a bit quieter and more than once she’s noticed him looking at that abandoned bay. Because this time a year ago he still had a different co-pilot, just. Which is probably something to do with the timing of this leave, not that he’s said anything about it.

On the one hand, Chuck wants to ask, to let him get if off his chest, but at the same time she doesn’t want to push. There’s still a lot they don’t talk about, and she’s not sure this is one of the things he ever wants to go into with her. It’s not like he hasn’t had the chance to talk about it, so she probably shouldn’t drag it back up. Still, she can see that he’s thinking about it and she can tell that he’s hurting, much as he might try to hide it.

But, if he wants a distraction then she can definitely do that for him. It’s not like there’s anything she wouldn’t do, or at least try, for his sake.

There’s not too much traffic, mercifully, and the heat’s not too bad with the window down. Max enjoys that a bit too much, sticking his head out and nearly overbalancing before she grabs onto his collar to keep him from inadvertently throwing himself onto the road. The two of them do have a bit of a disagreement over the radio, because he’s crazy and still likes Genesis, but other than that it’s nice. As nice as a longish drive can be, anyway.

Once it starts to become obvious that they’re heading well out of the city limits she shoots Herc a look but he doesn’t offer any further details. He still likes to make her wait and honestly this is one of those times she doesn’t really mind being left in the dark. That helps her to ignore the unmistakable feeling of disquiet that’s still trying to tie her stomach up in knots. Though she can take a pretty educated guess when they leave the main road behind to head further into the mountains.

The sun’s starting to sink back towards the horizon, afternoon beginning to turn into evening, when he turns onto a dirt driveway and finally pulls the truck to a stop. Naturally, Max tries to jump straight out the window the second the engine cuts out, so she quickly opens to door to save him some of the drop. Appreciating the relative stillness of the air, and the fact that there’s no more travel for today, Chuck stretches the stiffness out of her muscles as she takes a look around at his getaway.

Up here there’s no trace of the Pacific or the Kaiju, nothing but trees and mountains as far as the eye can see. Somewhere inland and sort of isolated like this wouldn't have been cheap. Even so, it's nothing posh, single storey, modest size and the sort of place that doesn't need all that much upkeep. While it doesn't look like their old house - or Gran's for that matter - it's just what she'd have pictured him choosing, now that she thinks about it.

'Nice place.'

'Glad you think so.' The casualness of his tone belies a clear sort of pleasure in his expression. He really cares about her opinion, the affirmation gives her a warm glow. 'Not too out of the way for you?'

Honestly, she's much happier to be away from the city, to have some proper space without feeling like someone might be watching her every move. That's another opinion they seem to have in common, and it's not like he hasn't had even longer to develop a distaste for the attention. So really she couldn't have chosen somewhere more perfect herself.

Which is why Chuck absolutely means it when she shoots him a small but contented smile. ‘Nah, out of the way's good.’

Looking around for the decidedly absent Max, she spots him rolling around in the dust. Someone's certainly going to be having a bath later. Still, it's been a while since he last had the run of a yard and he's clearly enjoying it too much for her to think of stopping him.

Instead she swings her bag onto her shoulder and follows Herc inside, curious. It seems even weirder to be stepping into a proper house again, she's got so damn used to the concrete and the stark military architecture. She's got to admit he's got decent taste. Nothing like Gran and her textured ceilings and floral prints. It's light, airy, but there's still some personality in there too. Not too aggressively masculine. Homey.

The layout's open plan, the kitchen separated from the rest of the living area by a breakfast bar. There's a short corridor leading off to the other part of the house; two bedrooms, one bathroom. And oh, right, they don't have to share here. She can pretend that's not disappointing. Doesn’t bode overly well for her ability to get much sleep, though, because she’s gotten just too used to being near him. But, then again, bed-sharing is a terrible idea, so she just has to suck it up and see if she can tire herself out instead.

But before she starts worrying too much about that she should really make an effort to get settled, or at least just dump her bag. Rather than asking through the bathroom door - which would be awkward for more than one reason - Chuck decides to figure it out for herself and tries the room on the right. Although there’s not exactly much to go on she realises pretty quickly that this one is his, not least because his bag's right there on the bed. Having figured it out she should turn straight around and leave, but she doesn’t.

This is where she wants to be. The thought hits her like a hard punch and it’s just so damn dangerous. Since that night in the hotel in Manila they haven’t shared a bed again, it’s not like they’d had any reason to. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t thought about it, a lot. Waking up next to him, it’s the one fantasy that the dreams can never satisfy by their very nature. That one time aside, she always wakes up alone and feeling more bereft for it.

It’s not something she can ask him for, though, because it’s so completely unsubtle. Last time had been enough of a close call, and she doesn't need to give herself more to dwell on. Much as she really wants to get a better look at...

He coughs, snapping her out of it, and raises an eyebrow at her once she turns around guiltily.

‘Wrong room. Right. Sorry.’ Feeling far more stupid than she probably should, Chuck hurries past him. At least she's safe in the knowledge that the door opposite is the right one by process of elimination, promptly shutting it behind herself and cringing.

 _Stop making it weird._ She’s going to have to tell herself this a lot over the next few days, isn’t she? It’s really just a matter of time before she screws up too obviously, because she is absolutely fucking useless at getting on top of these feelings. Always has been shit at that sort of stuff and without the anchor of the Drift she can’t get much of a handle on her thoughts either. Why can’t she just stop? Why is he just so damn attractive and perfect?

Going into a tailspin over her dad is nothing new, though, so it doesn’t take her all that long to cycle through despair back to calm. Probably a bad sign that she has her process down like this, but at least it’s better than just going into a permanent meltdown. She’s saving that for the hopefully far off day when it all comes crashing down around her. Instead, she might as well actually take a look at the room. Which she supposes is technically _her_ room now.

It has a window. That alone makes it feel infinitely more domestic, even if on closer inspection the curtains turn out to be blackouts. Anyone who’s lived in the Dome for any length of time gets so used to sleeping in total darkness that it’s hard to go back to normal. One of those details that tells her that this place is more than just an afterthought. Also nice that the bed’s another double, she’ll just have to see if she can convince Max to join her. That might eat away at some of the loneliness.

Only slightly at a loss for what to do now, she wanders back through to the living room for a better look. It’s unsurprising, really, how neat the place is, although Chuck slightly cringes at the thought that there’s a no-doubt messy bulldog set to trail dusty paw prints through it. She doesn’t feel as much like an intruder as she’d half-expected, even if being in a normal house seems slightly foreign now. It’s been easy to forget that her world isn’t just confined to the PPDC these days, the domestic setting making her feel off balance.

‘Do me a favour and sort out the bedding?’ Walking past on his way to finish unloading, Herc gestures in the direction of what she guesses is the airing cupboard; her expression must have given it away.

Chuck may not say it but she's grateful to be pointed towards a purpose. Even though the place is tidy it’s still been a good while since her dad was last here which means it’s in need of some freshening up. Doing something with her hands is a decent enough distraction, despite the fact that she could really make a bed with her eyes closed. Practised as she is, it doesn't take her all that long, though, leaving her at another dead end and inevitably seeking him out again. It’s far too easy to gravitate back to him, another reason she has to try and stay on her toes here.

It’s also easy enough to find him, standing in the middle of the kitchen area, considering the back of a packet. What with living in the Dome neither of them has to deal with cooking - which is just as well on her part - and she wonders how rusty he is. Not that she can really judge. Rather than venturing into that danger zone she leans up against the bar, more than happy to just stand by and watch him.

‘How do you feel about macaroni?’ He asks the question like he hadn’t checked her opinion multiple times while they’d been stocking up. Which had been an experience in and of itself.

So really he shouldn't be surprised that her response to that is another half-shrug. 'If that's what you want.'

That only earns her an unimpressed expression, like it's somehow inconsiderate of her not to be fussed either way. ‘You say that now...'

‘I don’t mind. Really.’ Trying not to fidget under his intense scrutiny is harder than it should be, which might well undermine the offhanded delivery she was going for.

‘Alright, but this means you don’t get to change your mind later.'

It’s not a stretch to understand the implicit warning there, which she knows he’d live up to if it came to it. Not that she has any mind to push him on this. ‘Okay.'

Decision made, Herc turns away to get on with it, and rather than highlighting her lack of use - or making her gratuitous staring too obvious - she decides it might be time to check on Max. The weather's showing no signs of breaking yet, even if the clouds are going a slightly funky colour on the horizon. Stepping outside, she whistles and the happy dog comes trotting around the corner, covered in dust just like she expected. Because he’s still full of beans, and she doesn’t feel quite like cleaning him up just yet, she fishes the tennis ball out from her pocket. Unsurprisingly his focus instantly shifts to the adored plaything, wriggling as he awaits the inevitable throw.

'Yeah, you've got your priorities straight, haven't you?' Rolling her eyes, she winds back and lobs it for him as hard as she can.

Instantly he's after it, stubby legs pumping furiously in an effort to intercept the ball before it hits the ground. She’s always had a good throwing arm, it rather helps with the punching.

After the first half a dozen throws Chuck retires to a nearby chair. But as long as Max's still bounding after the ball like his life depends on it she's going to keep going, or at least until she gets called back inside. Besides, it gives her a chance to properly appreciate the quiet and the fact that there’s nobody else for miles, just them.

She’s about edged into double digits when Herc finally joins her, apparently content to leave the oven to itself. Hopefully that’s not just misplaced confidence. Before she can really think about calling him on that, though, he silently offers her a beer.

That makes her eyebrows shoot up. Oh, she’d seen him pack it but that didn’t mean she ever expected him to just hand her one unprompted. Honestly, she was almost looking forward to figuring out how to weasel one off him. Not that it’s going to stop her accepting it before he can change his mind. ‘Serious?'

’Nobody’ll know.’

With a wry sort of smirk, she sits back and takes a grateful swig, it’s been far too long since she last got a drink. Probably a good thing that she knows she can handle a couple of beers without a problem, or else this might seem like asking for trouble. Getting drunk with him when there's nobody around to deter her from doing something stupid? Bad idea. But she's not going to get drunk, she's not a lightweight and she seriously doubts he’d let her anyway.

That sense of goodwill is put slightly to the test when Max comes back from his latest fetch. She doesn’t object to Herc getting a belated greeting, but she can’t help making an indignant noise of protest when he decides to go right ahead and throw the ball instead.

'Oi, that's my job!'

He doesn’t take the objection nearly as seriously as he should, as if that unfairly attractive lopsided smile of his makes it in any way better. ‘It looked like you could do with a break.'

The implication makes her bristle, even if it’s clearly not meant in a condescending way. ‘I’d be a pretty shitty Ranger if _fetch_ tired me out.'

‘Maybe,’ he pauses, taking his time before truly throwing down the gauntlet, 'but I can throw it further.'

‘Excuse me?’ It basically goes without saying that he can, but that doesn’t stop Chuck narrowing her eyes at him.

Because Max is a traitor he comes bounding back and chooses to take the ball straight to her dad, blatantly taking sides. So it looks like someone isn’t going to be sharing the bed with her tonight after all. While her betrayed pout goes ignored by the dog it seems to have a slightly stronger effect on her dad, though.

Still, it’s less out of pity and more from challenge that Herc tosses it back to her. ‘Let’s see how far you can get it then.'

In all fairness he’s fresh and she’s been lobbing the ball for a while already, but that keen sense of competitiveness means she has to at least try. Even if she’s going to inevitably fail and have to deal with him having won for the rest of the evening. In the end, that’s not really what this is about, is it?

-

If she wanted to Chuck could probably pretend that it’s the loud roll of thunder that has her lying awake in the middle of the night. It’s weird, hearing the full force of nature rather than just the faint rattle of pipes. But even if it was dead silent outside she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not by a long shot. Sure, the storm’s taking care of the temperature, but this is one of those nights when her thoughts just won’t turn off.

Max, on the other hand, is snuggled happily up in the sheets. Thunder doesn't bother him; she’s never been able to decide if that’s because he’s a brave dog or just oblivious. Both, she thinks now, giving him one last stroke before she finally gives up the pretence of trying to sleep.

Failing anything else maybe she can go watch the storm. After all, she doesn’t want to disturb her dad. That’s a thought that falls straight through when she edges her door open and notices the light coming from the living room. Sadly it’s not all that much of a surprise that he’s still up, not tonight of all nights. And damn it, she doesn’t want him to be alone.

Hell, worse comes to worse he can just tell her to shove off.

Leaving the door ajar so Max can come find them if he wakes up - highly unlikely until morning, but you never know - she slowly pads down the hall. Don’t want to disturb him if she doesn’t need to, hell, he might have even fallen asleep out here. And it’s not like her to turn down a chance to shamelessly watch him.

He’s not asleep, surprise surprise, sitting on the sofa so that his back’s to the rest of the house. The slump in his shoulders is obvious even from a distance, making it perfectly clear to her that he’s not in the best of places right now. From the looks of it he’s onto at least his third beer of the night, and like hell can she leave him sitting here in the half-dark drowning his sorrows.

Sucking in a deep breath, undeniably worried about what she might be trespassing on, Chuck cautiously approaches. Even if she wants to reach out for his shoulder, to better get his attention, she resists that urge and doesn’t try to intrude on his space too much. ‘Dad?'

Apparently deep in thought, Herc starts. For a moment there’s something more than surprise in the way he looks at her, his eyes sweeping over her in a lingering once-over. Which is about when she remembers that yeah, she forgot to put her shorts back on. Before she can really react to that realisation he looks back up at her face, frowning. ‘What’re you still doing up?'

‘Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing.’ Rather than giving him the opportunity to order her to go away, she drops herself onto the seat next to him. Not quite as close as she might like, knowing that now is one of the times to respect his space.

At first it seems like he’s not going to answer, looking away and taking another swig, but then, eventually, he cracks. ‘Couldn’t sleep.'

Which isn’t like him. Even if he has the tendency to wake up at the first sign of her being unsettled there hasn’t been a single time that he’s been the sleepless one, until now. That worries her but damned if she knows how to go about this sensitively. The shoe is very much on the other foot tonight and she doesn’t entirely know how to cope with that, much as she wants to help. After all, he’s dealt with her shit more than enough times, it’s only fair that she returns the favour now.

When she reaches over he lets her take the bottle off him without any fuss, might as well share after all. Chuck knocks back a long drink, at least partly to keep him from having too much and partly to steady the bundle of anxiety knotting in her stomach. ‘That makes two of us.'

Even though there’s no doubt that today, what it marks, weighs more heavily on him the fact is that it’s still sore for her as well. That drop haunts her still, the spectre of Mawgrim having come to encompass all her fears of losing him. How close had they come to never having the chance to sort things out between them? It’s not worth thinking about.

But it can’t be easy for him, having had his partnership with Scott just implode like that. Because she can tell that, as bad as whatever it was had been, he still misses his brother sometimes, still regretting how things turned out. Whatever her own problems with her uncle it’s clear that loss hit Herc far more than he’s been willing to admit.

Rather than trying to push she lets the silence drag out, gives him the chance to say anything he needs to without being prompted. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, Chuck’s well aware of how much just having company can help in and of itself. Whatever makes him feel better.

‘Trying to keep the neural handshake holding, knowing that we were losing, that wasn't even the worst part.'

He’s not looking at her, instead focusing on a random point on the floor. Caught somewhere between then and now, he takes another drink, as if he needs it to steady himself properly. Maybe this’ll be cathartic but it seems like the process is also going to be less than painless.

‘Course it wasn’t easy, when I’d never wanted to be in his head less, but it all went so damn fast I didn’t have much choice about it. It was just about survival, keeping it from getting to the Conn-Pod or the reactor…’ The memory is still so tangible it gives them both pause, even though it hasn’t appeared in their shared headspace for months now. ‘But even when it was all going to shit, the worst thing was the thought that I wouldn’t get the chance to make things right with you.'

Oh. Damn. That makes her heart swell, even though it’s another reminder of just how badly her attempt at putting him first had backfired. Shit, that’s not something she needs to dwell on, especially not when Herc’s still clearly in a bad place himself. She really wishes it hadn’t taken him this long to start talking to her about this, and that it hadn’t just been the result of him loosening up through the drink.

Thunder rumbles loud in the distance, light flickering ominously, but that’s not the reason she slides closer to him. Wanting to help but still not quite sure how, other than just letting him talk.

'But I didn’t deserve a second chance. I’d already failed you and now... Now I-‘ His voice cracks, unable to get whatever it is out, head hanging lower as he seems to fold in on himself.

Chuck pulls the bottle out of his hands and sets it out of his reach. It’s finished but she’s well aware of the damage that one of these could do when someone’s worked up enough. By way of replacement, she wraps a hand tightly around his, in the hope that maybe the physical contact will be enough to help him through this. ‘You didn’t fail me, Dad.'

‘I’m not _blind_.’ Herc pulls away with a burst of anger that she isn’t prepared for. And then he deflates again just as abruptly, which makes it so much worse. ‘In the end, I fail everyone who matters.'

Shit. How long has he been holding that in? She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him so despondent and she absolutely hates it. It’s funny, she’s always known there were things he was keeping from her in the Drift, just like she hides things. But this? This deep-seated sense of blame that he’s been carrying around? It has to stop. Right now.

‘ _No._ ’ Needing his full attention she climbs into his lap, getting her hands on his shoulders and pinning him hard against the back of the seat. It’s the closest she’ll get to shaking him, forcing him to look her in the eyes and _listen_. 'Don't you think that shit! I pushed you away; you were respecting my boundaries and that’s not a failure. Whatever the hell Scott did, I don’t care, that’s on him, not you. And- and with Mum, it was a shitty choice you were stuck with either way. There... wasn’t a right answer, so you couldn’t fail.'

Not the strongest finish but it’s still the best she can do. It just has to be enough, doesn’t it, enough to make him see that he's wrong. Nothing can entirely erase that time, that pain, but that doesn’t mean he has to dwell on it like this. He did the best he could, he shouldn’t be trying to shoulder this guilt for things that were beyond his control. Seriously, how much of a hypocrite is he? Telling her off for blaming herself when he was really doing the same damn thing.

She can see that it’s not enough, though, that he’s not entirely believing it, so she has to resort to extra measures. Besides, Chuck kind of feels like she needs a hug almost as much as he does right now, trying to pour as much reassurance as she can into it. There’s something a little more raw about the way he hugs her back this time, pulling her tight like she’s the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Eventually, when his grip loosens just a little bit, she thinks it’s safe to test the mood. ‘I’m meant to be the messy one, remember?'

‘Chuck...’ The warning growl lets her know that he’s come back to himself at least a bit more, which is a relief.

Curling into him just a little shamelessly, making herself too comfortable as she shifts her body to fit better against him, she sighs. ‘Look, I won’t mope if you won’t. Yeah?'

That’s a deal he seems happy enough with, for now, just like he seems perfectly happy with the position they’ve ended up in. A hand finds its way into her hair, stroking in that way he knows she’s weak to. In spite of the storm outside and the lingering sense of loss, it’s peaceful. Even more so because there’s no threat of the Kaiju alarm going off and pulling them apart.

-

Only when she shifts, opening her eyes and noticing that the light's got a whole lot dimmer, does Chuck realise she’d dozed off. Rather than feeling refreshed she just feels groggy as all hell, so she probably wasn’t out for too long. When she’d thought about waking up with him again this wasn’t quite what she had in mind, not least because she seemed to have come perilously close to using his lap as a pillow again.

Groaning, she tries to sit up at least halfway, scrubbing a hand over her eyes and wishing that she hadn’t woken up. Naps are shit, they always make her feel worse after.

‘Hey,’ Herc only seems to be slightly more awake than her, which is good. And he accompanies his question with a slow stroke down her spine, which is even better. ‘You ready for bed now?'

God damn it, he shouldn't say stuff like that. She almost tells him as much, brain still a bit lagging from sleep and her blood kind of busy going other places rather than helping it out. Instead, mercifully or not, she gives another groan and nestles into his side. ‘Wanna stay here.'

On second thought that was probably more him trying to politely tell her to get off than asking her opinion. But it’s not her fault that he wasn’t being obvious enough, and honestly, she thinks that they both stand a better chance of sleeping through the night if they stick together. That and she needs to fortify herself with extra physical contact while she has the chance, before she can even attempt to do the right thing and stop indulging herself.

With a conscious effort to put her own urges second, Chuck makes a fresh attempt to sit up, much as she doesn’t want to. It’s not fair to just trap him here when he’d probably much rather head back to his room. ‘You want me to move?'

‘No.’ His response is immediate and definite and totally doesn’t send a shiver down her spine.

It’s hard to argue with that, especially when she doesn’t really have any interest in doing so anyway. Still, because she’s apparently turned into the responsible one for the moment, a thought strikes her. ‘You shouldn’t sleep in your clothes.'

That sounded a lot more innocent in her head, nowhere near the horrendous attempt at a pass it ends up sounding like. If he didn’t already have an arm around her Chuck would be tempted to run away and find a wall to bang her head against, because that was just _bad_. Blame it on the lack of sleep. Or the, admittedly small, amount of alcohol in her system. Something, anything.

Apparently completely missing what that sounded like - or maybe she’s just overthinking things - Herc nods. ‘Good point.'

For all that he agrees he doesn’t make any move to follow through on the suggestion, though, or just to move at all. Sleeping sitting up can’t be particularly comfortable, even if he can do it, and she doesn’t want to put him out like this. It’s better to sleep off emotional stuff properly, she should know, or else he’s going to end up feeling rough in the morning.

As good as her intentions might be, she only has herself to blame for what comes out of her mouth next. ‘Do I have to do it for you?’

That gets her rather more of a reaction as he pulls back to level her with a stare that’s this intense mixture of emotions she can’t even begin to fathom. ‘Was that a threat?'

‘D’you want it to be?’ The question sounds a whole lot more confident than she feels.

Neither one of them’s breaking eye contact, which is probably a really bad idea because Chuck feels like she’s doing something unbelievably dangerous right now. Why is he playing along with her insanity? Surely he should be pushing her off, ought to have pushed her off ages ago, but he’s very definitely not doing that.

Instead he slowly traces a hand across her cheek, seeming to lean that little bit closer into her. ‘Guess that depends on what comes after.’

Chuck’s about ninety-nine percent sure that she’s not misinterpreting that, a fresh surge of arousal abruptly shooting through her system. If she stops to think she’ll come out with something that breaks whatever this moment is, so she just has to trust her instincts and go with this. And try to brace for the inevitable pain when she ends up being dumped onto the floor because she has to be wrong. She shouldn’t push this, shouldn’t risk it, but since when has she ever done what she should?

‘Well…’ Shifting so that they're level, narrowing the space between them to virtually nothing, she breathes in deep and hopes she’s not about to destroy everything. ‘I could always give you a taste first?'

Honestly, she’s expecting him to cringe in response, at best. But he doesn’t. Instead, Herc's hand tightens in her hair and the next thing she knows he’s kissing her. Properly, actually kissing her. It’s soft but definite, and so much better for the fact that it’s _real_.

Still, it takes her a long moment to cycle through the thoughts of _holy shit_ and _what the hell_ to actually respond to it. But when her mind belatedly catches up, Chuck is all too happy to push right back, throwing restraint out the window as it quickly turns more heated. There’s an undeniable taste of beer and even though it’s messy and desperate it’s so damn amazing. It’s like a dam breaking, all these urges that she’s been bottling up for so long, that it seems like they both have. She probably should’ve tried kissing him ages ago.

By unspoken agreement he pulls her closer as she climbs up to press him more firmly into the back of the sofa. Shit, she has no idea what she’s doing really, but at the same time she moves almost without thinking. It’s almost like a Drift, her following his lead and them moving near-seamlessly together to produce something incredible.

Maybe Chuck should be freaking out more about how fast this is happening, or the fact that he might not be in his right mind right now and she should probably stop before they do more things he’s only going to regret. But it’s seriously hard to hold onto thoughts like that when one of his hands is undeniably giving her ass a rather nice squeeze and he’s kissing her like it’s the most important thing in the world. No, all she knows right now is that she could do this all night and she never wants to let go.

And that feeling seems to be pretty damn mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! They're actually kissing, for real. What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> As always, thanks for stopping by, and for having the patience to make it to the end of that monster of a chapter!


	31. Afterburn

That wasn’t a good night’s sleep, not by any stretch of the imagination. Chuck’s slept in some unusual places, sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that the couch is kind of uncomfortable. It’s likely only thanks to his arm around her waist and her own leg hooked over his that she’s managed to avoid the ruder awakening of rolling onto the floor. Which in itself is not a bad position at all, even if she thinks that it might have been better if she’d gotten him back to his bed for the sake of avoiding some aches.

Problem is, now that she’s awake it’s hard to ignore the vaguely cramped feeling that’s creeping into her consciousness. Her ability to stretch is rather limited to boot, especially considering the fact that she doesn’t really want to wake Herc. It feels like he could probably do with the extra sleep and this way she doesn’t have to worry too much about the fact that she’s staring. He’s so attractive it’s unfair. Happy as she is to bear the cramp in order to spend however long she can soaking this in, though, Chuck can’t ignore it when she hears whining coming from the floor.

Max, right on cue. That takes away her excuse for indulging herself, so reluctantly she eases herself out from under Herc's arm. Fortunately, somehow, he doesn't stir this time. Too knackered. Although initially his hold on her tightens, instinctively, he doesn't really fight her attempt to get loose and instead shifts back to make himself more comfortable. Before she slips away completely she can't quite resist pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, mentally cursing herself even though it doesn't seem to disturb him.

She slides the patio door open quietly, giving Max the chance to waddle outside in his own time. The air’s fresh, like it only ever is after a really satisfying storm, while the ground seems to have almost completely dried off overnight in spite of the heaviness of the downpour. As far as she’s concerned that means conditions are just about right for a run. Seeing as her head’s still kind of foggy she can’t really turn down such a good opportunity to clear it. Besides, can’t be getting lazy just because they’re on leave.

It doesn't take her too long to go and root out some slightly more suitable running gear, cringing as she does at the fact that she'd been cuddling up to him in next to nothing. _Again._ That’s turning all too easily into a habit. Seeing as there's still no signs of stirring from the couch Chuck waits until she's outside to pull on her shoes, half-wondering if she should leave a note or something just in case. But then it's pretty self-explanatory, and it's not like she’s planning on being gone too long anyway.

Business done, Max comes wandering over to nose at her ankles, asking what comes next. At least their relationship will never be complicated, even if he doesn’t always keep company she approves of.

'You ready to go, slowpoke?'

Her plan is to head back up the road for a kilometre or two, safe in the knowledge that nobody’s going to be driving around up here at this time of the day. It’s not the same as the smooth concrete floors that she’s gotten used to but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

She starts off at a sprint, just to shake the last of the tiredness away, before settling back into her usual pace, balancing that fine line between pushing herself and enjoying the burn of the exercise. Speed has always been her strength, that’s part of what makes her such a good match for Striker, but over the years she’s built up a fair level of endurance too. While punching was the outlet for her anger, even before she got dragged into therapy, running was where she could really let go of things. Except today there’s too much going on in her thoughts to be driven away that easily.

Last night… The line between reality and her fantasies has blurred and it’s left her feeling confused, simultaneously empty but full of hope. And dread. Because it can’t have happened, not really. It has to have been another dream. Except... it felt too real. Chuck can _remember_ it with unmistakable clarity, even through the fog of sleep. It could well have been hours that they'd gone at it, but however long it was it hadn’t been long enough. What had started out kind of frantic had turned into this long, slow exploration and she knows her imagination can’t be _this_ vivid.

But even if it had really happened, even if every last tantalising detail had happened exactly as she remembers, that doesn't mean that it actually meant anything. He'd been drinking and that had probably blurred his judgement. Not to mention just how upset he'd been and nobody makes rational decisions in that sort of state. Maybe she'd taken advantage of him, making a move like that when he was vulnerable. Oh god, what if he hates her for it?

That makes her stop, feet sliding to an abrupt halt, as an intense feeling of nausea grips her. The sudden weight of it presses heavily on her as she slumps down on the side of the track and tries to remember how to breathe properly. She was supposed to be getting on top of this, controlling these stupid feelings, and instead she’s gone and jumped well over the line of deniability. Chuck’s made it his problem and probably destroyed their partnership in the process, and of all the days to do it... What has she _done?_

Max comes back to check on her, giving her a fresh opportunity to try and distract herself as she gives his fur a ruffle. But now that she’s started thinking about it she can't stop, it's far too important and fuck, how is she ever going to face him again? Shit, she knew coming here was a terrible idea.

But it had been so _good_. The way he’d shivered when she dragged her fingertips along the old circuitry burns. The really fucking hot moans he’d made when she’d moved her hips at just the right angle...

She has to go back, no matter how horrible she’s feeling, because disappearing out here for long will only make things worse. Maybe if she’s fast enough she could still get back before he wakes up, except she’s not sure that’d be the best idea. After all, he might want some space after… that. Shit. Chuck has no idea what she’s doing. She’s completely lost here and that lingering good feeling is all but gone.

With a bit more prodding from Max she forces herself back to her feet, absently dusting off her ass and pointedly not thinking about whose hands she’d rather have there. All in all, she must look a right state, which isn’t going to help her case one bit, is it? Damn. While she’s tempted to push herself harder on the run back there’s also the fact that she’s more than a little worried about what she’ll find when she gets there. Why does she always have to ruin everything?

Dragging her feet as she approaches the house again, Chuck is no closer to figuring out just how the hell she’s supposed to handle this. The knot that’s formed in her stomach gets even tighter when she finally steps inside, knowing almost as soon as she does that the sofa’s empty. There goes the small hope of catching a few extra moments of closeness.

Not knowing exactly where he is worries her more than she wants to admit, even if there’s not really a whole lot of places he could’ve gone to. Moving around’s perfectly normal, nothing to get worked up over, and she was the one who’d got up first anyway. Still, she keeps quiet as she picks her way over to the kitchen, frowning at the discarded bottles littering the coffee table.

Increasingly nervy as she is, Chuck needs something to do with her hands, that and barring the option of another beer she needs coffee to steady herself. Fortunately, even though Herc’s not quite as hooked on the stuff as she is, it doesn’t take her too long to ferret out what she needs. And it’s the premium stuff too, none of that weak Academy dreck, which she is immensely grateful for. God help them if this ever has to go on ration.

Perching on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, all too ready to spring up and run, she utterly fails at pacing herself and gets most of the way through her second mug before he emerges from the bathroom. Even if she’s making an effort to not meet his eyes for as long as she can avoid - just to spare herself the inevitable heartache - that doesn’t stop her getting a good appreciative look. He’s damp from the shower, which reminds her that she could probably do with that herself and makes her regret the fact that she hadn’t been here to share-

Shit, she can’t let those thoughts start escalating again. That doesn’t solve anything and it’s already hard enough to look him in the eyes as it is. Last night has made it a whole lot harder to ignore just how much she wants to jump on him and do it all over again, screw caution. Her imagination seems to be kicking into overdrive and maybe the coffee was a bad idea in retrospect.

Even if Chuck’s suffering from an internal crisis, though, that doesn’t mean she’s not painfully aware of the fact that he isn’t saying anything. Which really doesn’t feel like a good thing, making her insides do unpleasant things and compelling her to quickly fill the silence herself. ‘Sleep well?'

Maybe she’s reading too much into the way he stops to consider his answer to that, like there’s more to the question than the basic pleasantry. But it’s not like she can help worrying, not when it seems like Herc’s treading on eggshells. It was crazy to hope, she knew it.

‘Well enough.’ Leaning against the counter directly opposite her, arms crossed and waiting, he ventures; ‘You were up early.'

Does that sound like an accusation? Chuck isn’t sure, she can’t be sure. Still, it makes her feel like she should’ve waited out the cramp and climbed back on after letting Max out. It’s not like she couldn’t have done with some extra shuteye, or time cuddled up to him, and then she wouldn’t have had extra time to work herself up before this. But then again, that might have just ended up turning out worse, mightn’t it?

Not at all sure of how to play this, she settles for an attempt at an easy shrug. Best to be honest, where she can. ‘Max needed a run.'

‘Ah.’ Herc seems to want to say more than that but for whatever reason he leaves it there, letting the silence stretch back out.

There's this almost expectant charge in the atmosphere, weighing down on the room and making her try not to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. Which is really a losing battle when he’s still watching her so intently. Shit, she doesn’t want to have made things awkward between them. But worrying about that’s only making her feel more self-conscious, which seriously isn’t helpful right now.

He’s not all that patient, though, offering her another prompt rather than spend half the morning waiting for her to get over herself. ‘Sorry for keeping you up so late.'

That’s not something he needs to apologise for, even if for a brief moment her stomach clenches at the thought of the other thing he could’ve been saying sorry for. Except that’s stupid, if anyone needs to apologise for that it’s her. ‘Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t having much luck on my own anyway.'

Honestly, she just wants him to say something about what happened. Yes, it’s good that he’s not launching right into the ‘I don’t want you anywhere near me’ talk but, at the same time, Chuck can’t help feeling slightly… disappointed. For a little while there she’d let herself believe that he might feel more for her, and even though it was an impossible dream that doesn’t make it any less gut-wrenching to have it dashed. Maybe this is him letting her down gently, by ignoring it, or maybe he was simply too out of it to remember. Maybe he just thinks it was some messed up dream.

Downing the rest of her coffee in one go, Chuck slips off the stool, suddenly desperate to get out of here. She can’t do this. ‘Right, I stink. I hope you haven’t used up all the hot water.'

‘You don’t have to worry about that.'

It’s impossible to resist the urge to look back, and sure enough, he’s watching her. But quite what his expression means she can’t be sure; either he’s too well guarded or she’s not together enough to interpret it right now. Though she’s sure there’s something unhappy about the way he's looking at her. Their eyes meet for a long moment as she hesitates, frozen in a temporary state of indecision. Someone should say something; if he won’t then…

That impulse dies as he turns away, breaking whatever that was between them. _Don’t be stupid, don’t make things worse._

True to his word, there turns out to still be plenty of hot water in the tank. So she runs it hot enough to be on just the wrong side of discomfort. As if she could sear the feel of what happened out of her skin. Better to forget than to be stuck with this confusion. Because if she closes her eyes or lets her mind wander it all comes flooding back, and it _hurts_.

At least the shower’s loud enough to drown out her muffled sobs, can't let him know just how deep she’s fallen.

-

Unlike the Shatterdome there’s not all that much space here for the two of them to spread out over, which only serves to make it all the more obvious as the morning drags on that Herc’s avoiding her. And if he’s avoiding her that means he must remember _something_ from last night. Which is bad. Because if it was a positive memory then surely they’d already be doing it all over again. So he’s upset about it, but he doesn’t want to mention it. Right. She can learn to live with that, she'll have to.

True, she’s not exactly seeking him out either, but that doesn’t really dull the sting of this. Chuck can’t be sure where they stand anymore, which just makes her feel tetchier and like she wants to claw her own skin off. Hopefully, if she doesn’t push this, time will make it better. Maybe if she can just prove to him that she won’t try anything like that again then they’ll be alright. But shit, there are so many maybes it’s impossible to stop thinking the worst.

All in all, it’s far too easy to get herself worked up. For fuck’s sake, how could she have expected anything else? How could he ever feel that way about her? She’s not good or easy-going or pretty or anything like what he deserves. All she’s good for is fighting, fixing machines and not an awful lot else. Other than ruining people’s lives, that is. How could she be so _stupid?_

Once a mistake always a mistake.

Pacing a rut into the floor of the bedroom soon gets too frustrating and she has little choice but to venture out in search of some better release for the turmoil clouding her thoughts. Leaving her hideout risks running into him, even if he’s still avoiding her as well, so Chuck treads carefully, ready to bolt at the first sign of movement. Judging by the fact that the living room’s deserted she guesses that he’s holed up in his own room, unless he’s up and left but then she would’ve heard the engine. Not that she stand to be in there either, the presence of the goddamn couch doing nothing but reminding her of how she started this mess.

While it’s not a surprise that she finds a punching bag hanging up in the garage it is a relief to see it. It gives her an outlet, and the chance to shut out the steadily growing unease that’s threatening to swallow her. Maybe she’s pushing herself a little hard, throwing herself right back into the exercise with little in the way of a break. But right now Chuck couldn’t care less about how much she’s wearing herself down. Hell, this way she might actually be able to sleep tonight. Fuck knows she doesn’t stand a chance otherwise.

Jab. Jab. Cross.

Stupid. Useless. Idiot. What must he think of her now? Knowing what she wants, what she’ll do if given the chance… It’s a miracle he can even stand to be in the same room as her anymore. No matter how much he might care for her as his daughter, no matter what he promised, this could still be enough to make him leave.

Jab. Cross. Hook.

At least if she stays on form that gives him, anyone, less of a reason to drop her. Herc knows what Striker means to her, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to bring himself to share headspace with her after this, does it? But even if she’s gone and fucked things up between them they can still pretend it never happened. Chuck can suppress it, never think about it again, and she will beat it out of herself if she has to. Because the thought of being left behind again is too much to take.

Cross. Jab. Cross.

‘Wasn’t,’ Herc had broken away, his breath hot against her skin and making her insides squirm, ‘there something about taking my clothes off?'

Honestly, she’d been impressed that his memory was working so well, considering the state she was in. That was something she really had to rectify, right away. So she’d been all too happy to oblige, letting her hands find their way under the hem of his shirt. ‘If you say so.'

_Fuck._

Her form disintegrates, strength diminished to the point that none of her hits give her any feeling of satisfaction anymore. Chuck's starting to feel a bit light-headed, and it’s hard to tell whether that’s just from the emotion or overexertion or a combination of both. Pushing herself to the point of collapse is never a good idea, so she gives herself a grudging break to just breathe. Can’t afford to get too carried away, but she still has a couple of days to recover before she has to worry about being combat ready, so maybe...

Although he doesn’t make any particular noise she feels it the moment Herc walks in. Like the last of the air’s being sucked from her lungs. And as much as she’d hated the fact that he was avoiding her that doesn’t mean she’s at all ready to face him yet. This isn’t going to be the conversation she wants it to be, much as she might vainly hope otherwise, and she doesn’t have anywhere near the energy for it right now.

‘You know, this is supposed to be a break.'

Even if she’s kind of exhausted, and rather unsubtly leaning against the bag for support, that doesn’t stop her making a dismissive snort. ‘I know my own limits.’

While Herc doesn’t try to argue with that, yet at least, it’s all too easy to picture the look he’s surely shooting at her back. That damned parental instinct of his is clearly going to override the awkwardness he’s feeling now that she’s given him reason to worry about her. For all that he was avoiding her not so long ago, it’s going to be near impossible to get him to take the easy option and walk away again. Even if that’s what she wants.

So if he’s not going to back away then that just leaves her. Pushing off the bag, silently relieved she doesn’t stagger or anything, Chuck doesn’t waste any time heading for the exit. She was already basically done in here anyway; far better to get out before any more damage is done.

Of course, Herc doesn’t see it the same way, casually blocking the doorway like this can’t be made any worse than it already is. He’s frowning, in a way that could just as easily be frustration as concern and is clearly nothing but trouble. ‘This isn’t healthy.’

Already on edge as she is that’s enough to make her snap, seeing red. ‘Fuck off!'

That catches him off guard, the sheer force of her reaction. Hurt shows through clear for a vulnerable instant, but he’s quick to cover it up. On another day he might be more gentle about this, but today he pushes right back. ‘Don’t play that with me.'

‘Play _what?_ ’ Chuck may have plenty of idea what he’s getting at with that but she’s not in any sort of mood to give him what he wants here. Not now, not when she’s so raw and disappointed. All she’s focused on is the fact that she wants to leave and he’s in her way. She is not having this conversation with him.

But Herc clearly wants to have this conversation with her, sending her into retreat as he steps closer. All too easily he manages to get her penned against the nearest wall, cutting off escape as best he can without actually touching her. ‘I know you only push yourself like this when you’re upset.’

Which is unfortunately true, and something he’d probably be all too aware of even if they hadn’t ever Drifted. The real question underneath that is the why, of course. And if he doesn’t already understand then like hell is she going to spell it out like this. Chuck doesn’t want to deal with his pity, that’s almost worse than him outright hating her. Isn’t it? Fuck, she doesn’t even _know_ anymore.

Lacking any sort of response other than her renewed refusal to look him in the eye, he growls. ‘For god’s sake, would it kill you to talk to me?'

What does he expect her to say to him? _Yes, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t regret a second of what happened last night?_ Being this close to him isn’t helping her think clearly enough to get out of this cleanly, and she is _not_ going to cry. ‘There’s nothing to talk about!’

‘We both know that’s not true.’ His earlier edge of frustration gives way to something softer, voice lowered as he silently implores her to just look at him. Whatever his thoughts on last night he doesn’t seem to want to just come out and say them, as if he’s waiting to make sure of hers first.

That's enough to give her hope and she hates herself for it. As little space as there is left between them, it wouldn’t take much for her to reach out and pull him properly against her. So long as he let her. She could kiss him. So easily. If she just runs her hands up towards his shoulders, ready to tangle in his shirt, looks up and tilts her head just so. One more try, just to be sure...

‘It doesn’t matter!’

Her shove doesn’t do much, strength still pretty depleted from that time with the punching bag, but it still conveys the message. Chuck can’t bear to look at him right now, to see whatever horrible emotion she’s causing him. She wants him to go, save himself, but she also wants him to come closer and make this okay. It’s his choice now. What does he want?

Judging from his shaky breath that’s not an easy question for him either. Herc hesitates, thinking, and that’s probably not a good sign. This isn’t the time for weighing up the right and the wrong. Right now demands the gut reaction, the basic yes or no, for better or worse.

They both flinch when the phone goes, an interruption neither of them was expecting. It’s scarily telling that Chuck’s first thought isn’t that it must be a Kaiju she’s about to miss and rather frustration that even out here they can’t escape being disturbed. But whatever either of them thinks it can’t really be ignored, it could be important, more important than what’s going on between them right now.

When Herc sighs, hesitating for just a moment before going to get it, she can’t help getting the sense that he’s walking away from the conversation too. And it’s not like she wanted him to give up. Underneath the frustration and the anger all Chuck really wanted was for him to push her right up against the wall and kiss her senseless. All she can think about is carrying on where they left off and it’s driving her insane.

Groaning and giving her hair a hard tug, she quickly goes after him, albeit keeping a slight distance. Just in case it actually is something urgent. Not that there’d be time to get back to the Shatterdome anyway, unless they’d caught one early that was headed straight for their coast. And shit, if they can’t work this out how are they ever going to be able to Drift together again?

But it’s clear as soon as Herc picks it up it’s not anything like that, what with the way he visibly relaxes on hearing the voice at the other end of the line. ‘Olivia? No, no, it's not a problem.'

Winchester, of course. She doesn’t need his warning look to tell her to turn right around and leave. Private conversation and probably a lot more pleasant than theirs.

Feeling even more shitty than she had before her time with the punching bag, Chuck doesn’t waste any time in retreating. Lacking anywhere else to go she finds herself in the bedroom again, shutting the door behind her to have something to lean back against and to spare herself the temptation of trying to listen in. It’s not like he’s going to want to admit to the fact that his daughter’s anywhere near this screwed up, after all.

That went so damn well, didn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Chuck. Now is really not the time to be resisting the urge to kiss him, silly thing.
> 
> This chapter shouldn't have taken nearly as long as it has, sorry. Annoying real-world stuff, getting in the way of the angsty incest goodness.


	32. In the Dark

The sirens. They’re making her brain hurt and they _just won’t stop_. Someone would have to be completely blind and deaf not to realise that there’s a Kaiju coming, so why can’t they just turn that horrible sound off? It’s not even like they’re drowning out the rest of the noise, the panic, the screams...

Except those are kind of far away now. Chuck’s running in the opposite direction, because she knows it’s pointless to try and shelter like that. A couple of extra walls won’t stop a Kaiju, and it won’t stop a nuke either. So why bother? That’s not how she wants to die. There’s still time.

It’s eerie, the lifelessness of the corridors, lockers left hanging open, papers and books scattered across the floor from the moment the news came through and the sirens started up. There’s something wrong, unreal, about it even though at the back of her mind it’s all too familiar. She shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be happening. She runs harder.

Just up ahead, this is where she finds him, looking for her... Except it’s empty, deserted, dead. Not a footstep, not a whisper, nothing. He should be here, right here, she knows it in her gut. But he’s not. Something’s wrong, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

Even though this numbing sense of dread is spreading through her system Chuck has to keep going, she can’t just stand around here. Time is running out, slowly but surely. Maybe she just got here early. It’s not too late yet, she has to hold onto something.

By the time she crashes through the last set of heavy doors and stumbles outside she can’t pretend anymore, though. Deep down she knew from the start. The field's empty. Dead. No chopper. No Dad. It’s just her. Alone.

The sirens finally go quiet - cutting out abruptly - as Scissure screams and…

_Damn._

Chuck shivers, feeling the heat of the imagined blast in spite of the cold sweat she’s drenched in. All that work to get to sleep and this is her reward? She shouldn’t really be surprised, it’s no less than she deserves. Considering how awful the rest of the day had been it was inevitable her mind wasn’t going to let her have any real rest. God, she feels like shit.

They haven’t really talked since that little incident in the garage, just pointless stuff that didn’t mean anything. But just because neither of them was saying anything about it didn’t mean that the tension wasn’t there loud and clear. Maybe she hadn’t _completely_ ruined things but it was still all kinds of uncomfortable between them and she doesn’t really know how to make it go away. It’s not like they can just forget it and go back to before, as much as she really wishes they could. Because she just doesn’t see how he can still be around her, knowing what she feels and what she’d done. Not for any length of time. Not if it’s like this.

A wet nose nudges against her side as Max whines in sympathy. He understands, in his way. Although she pulls him into a cuddle, not fighting when he wriggles up to lick her face, it’s not enough to drive away the lingering disquiet. This isn’t something he can fix for her, much as he might want to. After all, he isn’t the one she’s afraid of leaving her behind. And, honestly, who could blame Herc if he did?

Even though it’s irrational, and Chuck knows he wouldn’t do something like that to her, she has an urgent compulsion to go check his room. To reassure herself that it’s just the nightmare getting to her, that she’s not alone. Just a quick look and she’ll be fine again. Except she knows that’s bullshit and fuck, she is going to be so sleep-deprived by the time they go back to the Dome, isn’t she?

While the house is dark it’s not that hard to make her way across the hall, don’t need night vision to walk in a straight line. Chuck’s slightly surprised to find that his door’s been left open, though, almost like an invitation. Probably just so Max could come in if he wanted. Still, it makes things a little easier for her. No worrying about trying to quietly fumble around in the dark for the handle or it creaking and waking him up.

There’s not all that much to see inside, not unless she feels like flicking the light on, but once her eyes adjust she can make out his shape on the bed well enough. His breathing’s nice and even and he’s _here_. That’s enough to loosen the knot that had formed in her throat, although she still holds her own breath in. Can never tell what’s enough to wake him, after all. Which would be such a fun thing to explain; _not only do I come on to you when you’re vulnerable, I stand around like a creeper and watch you sleep_.

Yeah, better not to go there. Irrational fear dismissed, but still only somewhat satisfied, Chuck takes a step back. Maybe if today hadn’t been the day it had been she might have had the guts to venture further in, take her chances and climb in next to him. But today doing something like that would only make things worse. Like everything she seems to do.

Going back to her own bed is out, though, and she just doesn’t have the energy to find something else to occupy herself with. So, left with a whole lot of nothing, she leans her back against the wall and lets herself slide down. It’s as good a place to sit and wait out the night as any. Not like she’s going anywhere near the couch, after all. Out here she feels safe enough to sigh at least, grinding her palms against her eyes.

How the hell is she supposed to fix this mess? It’s not like it can be ignored now, not really. Because of the Drift. Even though Herc can keep unwanted things out of their headspace almost without exception she’s not nearly as honed at it. When it comes to feelings, thoughts, Chuck’s a lot better than she is with pushing away the actual solid memories. Not least because, well, if she chased this particular rabbit she could see what he really thought. Or at least get a glimpse.

Which would only make her feel worse, she knows, and jeopardise her place in Striker to boot. Except it would be a sort of closure, wouldn’t it? That might get it through her thick skull that she shouldn’t feel like this about him, shouldn’t want him anywhere near as much as she does. Final proof that it’s hopeless.

Crazy ideas aside, most likely she should be apologising at the first opportunity. Because while she doesn’t regret any of the actual making out she is sorry that it’s caused this rift between them. This isn't what she wanted, not by a long shot. And she shouldn’t have lashed out either, but what else was she supposed to do? It’s impossible.

Out of nowhere, there’s a splash of light coming through the doorway and shit, he shouldn’t have woken up. Having no desire to get caught redhanded, Chuck makes an attempt to scramble up, except one of her legs has gone to sleep. Rather than risk the indignity of trying to drag herself into the safety of the other room she goes for the lesser of the two evils and flops back down. Fuck her life right now.

Oblivious, Herc emerges in nothing but his sweats, heading for the bathroom. For a moment she dares to think she’s gotten away with it, that he’ll miss her sitting stupidly in the shadows, but then he pauses, turning back to frown at her. ‘What’re you doing?'

‘Nothin.’ Which is true, even if it takes her an incriminatingly long moment to come back with it.

Naturally that isn’t enough of an answer for him, even now, and apparently he isn’t overly desperate for the bog after all. Crossing his arms, he goes straight into worry mode. ‘Tell me you aren’t sleeping on the floor.'

‘Who said anything about sleeping?'

If it were possible to kick herself right then she would. Going straight on the defensive isn’t the best of strategies to patch things over again, and it’s not like her being sprawled on the floor wasn’t suspicious enough already. Damn it.

Freshly woken up or not, Herc doesn’t miss that, paying too much attention for her liking. Sighing, he looks down at her and breaks out that no-nonsense growl of his. ‘If you’re not in bed by the time I get back I’ll put you there myself.'

He doesn’t wait for any agreement or acknowledgement, walking away and pulling the bathroom door shut behind him with one last warning look. It's almost like the threats he used to make when she was still a kid and refusing to go to sleep. Back in those days it’d been less about nightmares and more about the fact that she had better things to do with her time, and why did going to bed matter so much anyway?

But now that threat makes her insides twist in a completely different way, that pang of arousal unmistakable. Damn, does he know how to keep giving her ideas. Stupid, idiot girl. Still, it’s an ultimatum she doesn’t for one moment doubt he’ll follow through with, so Chuck figures it’s better to move herself. Especially considering how awkward she finds getting back to her feet, must have been down there longer than she’d thought.

Once up, furiously willing the pins and needles to go away faster, she hesitates, torn over which bed she should really be going to. Chuck’s pretty sure she was reading it right that his meaning was to go to his, unless that’s just wishful thinking. Even though she knows where that could end up leading it’s not like she stands a chance of sleeping anywhere else, and maybe… Maybe this is how to start fixing things. Make it clear that she’s on good behaviour now and that it won’t happen again.

Besides, his _is_ the room with the light on. Decision made, she limps over to his bed and, with a lot less hesitation than she should probably have, climbs under the covers. But just because she’s being bold that doesn’t mean that she’s crazy, making sure to budge herself as far to one side as she can without falling back out again. Space, if he wants it. Assuming he doesn’t kick her straight out.

As relaxing as the scent of his sheets may be that doesn’t stop her tensing up all over again when the pipes give a telltale rattle. It takes longer than it really should for him to come back, making her hold her breath as he pauses in the doorway to consider the view. But the objection that she’s half-expecting never comes, and moments later he’s turning off the light and settling back down. Very much sticking to his side, of course.

There’s that almost expectant sense in the air again and unless she says it Chuck isn’t going to be able to relax, much as she might want to. Has to get worse before it gets better after all. ‘I’m sorry.'

The sheets rustle as Herc turns his attention to her, both literally and figuratively. ‘What for?'

One question in and already she’s struggling to know how to respond without digging herself into an even worse hole. Bodes well. Times like these a Drift hangover would be so damn useful, if a tricky double-edged sword all the same.

Resisting the urge to turn and look at him for more of a clue, or as much of one as she could distinguish in the dark, Chuck instead opts to curl slightly more in on herself. Bracing. ‘For earlier.'

Contrary to her hopes, he doesn’t just read into that what he will and leave it there, probing further. ‘That’s not very specific.'

‘Do I need to be?'

‘Yes.'

Fuck, why can’t this be easier? Why does he want to push the issue? It’s not as if he’s going to like the answer. Well, the honest answer, anyway. But what choice does she have but to tell the truth anymore? If they’re going to stand any chance of salvaging their partnership from this she has to be honest, come what may. At least then they’d both know exactly where they stood. But, still, Chuck’s afraid. She doesn’t want to hurt any more than she already does.

‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you.’ Which obviously goes without saying, but she needs to work her way up to the harder part. 'And just… I’m sorry for making things awkward.'

Hopefully he doesn’t want her to go into intimate detail. Because that is the truth and Chuck doesn’t know if she can make herself apologise for the rest of what happened. Well, if that’s what he needs to hear then maybe she can force it out. But damn, she hopes he doesn’t want to make her say that.

There’s another shift of the mattress, and apparently that was the right sort of thing to say because now she can feel the heat of his body next to her, tantalisingly close. ‘Then talk to me. Please.’

It’s awful how upset he sounds. That’s the worst thing in all this, hurting him. So how can she say no? If he’s going to be unhappy either way then what is there to lose? Other than everything. Without really letting herself think about it, she rolls over and presses herself against him like she’s wanted to from the start. For him, and for herself too.

Herc doesn’t push her away like she had half-feared, pulling her closer instead. Possibly because her desperation is too obvious, the fact that she wants to soak up as much physical contact as she can before she loses it for good.

It gets into her voice too, choking up her words even more as she whispers; ‘You’ll want to leave.'

‘Never.’ There’s too much conviction behind that one word to be questioned. Especially when he’s holding her like this, rubbing comforting strokes down her spine. ‘Just let me understand.'

When they’re together it’s so much easier to let herself believe. The connection is practically tangible in the air, and she digs her fingers into his back. Because she has to do this, has to admit it once and for all. She owes him that much, even if he might wish he didn’t know later.

Screwing her eyes tightly shut, breathing in deep, Chuck finds that when the words finally come they rush out without any of the difficulty she was expecting. ‘I love you. The wrong way. And I’m sorry, I just… I couldn’t help it and I’ve tried to stop it and keep it under control but I- I _can’t_.'

She’s shivering again, even though she feels kind of light now that she’s put it out there. How did she ever think she was going to be able to keep this in for long enough? Why is she so stupid?

‘It’s okay.'

Out of everything she was expecting, fearing, she can’t say this was a response that had crossed her mind. So… simple. Like she hadn’t just spelt out her messed up incestuous feelings for him. While pressing herself up against his half-naked body no less. Well, yeah, it’s probably not all that much of a surprise considering the fact that just yesterday she'd been furiously making out with him, but still. Herc seems far too calm about this and that’s freaking her out.

‘How can you _say_ that?’ Turning hysterical probably proves her own point more than she might care to admit. Lurching back, she pushes him away to a slightly safer distance, though she can’t make herself take her hands off him completely. ‘I’m sick! Even before I got to the Academy I wanted you! I dream about having sex with you and I think about you _all the time_ , and oh fuck, it’s rubbed off on you, hasn’t it?'

Rather than doing the sensible thing and tossing her out now, Herc grabs her hands, keeping her from trying anything more drastic. Getting her to look at him as best he can, he makes his words calm and clear. ‘Nothing's rubbed off on me, sweetheart.'

Grounding as his hold is, Chuck still has the urge to break something, preferably herself, because someone needs to be angry at her for making this mess. ‘You don’t know that!'

‘I do.’ He stays firm, treading carefully but refusing to back down or let go of her shaking hands. ’The Drift has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. Course it made this harder to ignore, but that wasn’t anything to do with what you were bringing into it. These thoughts are all mine.'

‘But-'

‘No.’ Herc cuts her off, giving her wrists a squeeze rather than listen to more of her argument. 'In case you’re forgetting, I’m the one who kissed you first.'

That’s... a better point than she wants to admit. Somewhere in all this she’d managed to gloss over that rather important fact, getting too caught up in freaking out over her own actions and the fact that he didn’t exactly seem happy. Yeah, she had been the one who started the whole coming onto him thing, but it had still been Herc who closed the gap. She’d given him the chance to push her away and he hadn’t taken it, quite the opposite. And that’s got to count for something, hasn’t it?

Except… ‘You were-'

‘Drunk?’ He gives a short laugh, as if that’s anywhere near the craziest thing she’s said. ‘It was only a few beers, sweetheart, that’s not going to make me do something I don’t want to. Trust me.'

With the way he’s touching her, the earnestness in his voice, there’s not much room for doubt. A flood of relief flows through her, because he really had wanted it, she hadn’t forced it on him. And the implication’s there, that he might want to do it again.

But, then, what about earlier? Why had he been avoiding her? Unless… he thought she was taking it badly? Because, in all fairness, Chuck really had, just not for the reasons he might have thought at the time. So she’d just gone and confused the both of them, typical.

Even if she accepts all that it still leaves one serious question weighing heavy on her mind and making her hesitate. It’s an answer she’s scared to ask for, still so sure that there isn’t a real one and if Herc thinks about it enough he’ll realise that.

Fidgeting, she ducks her head, trying to be ready for the worst. ‘Why?'

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ He comes back without hesitation, like this isn’t a question she should need to ask. But knowing that’s not enough of an answer he spells it out clearer. ‘You really don’t see yourself, do you? You’re so strong, so smart, so damn gorgeous...'

Chuck has no idea how he sees that. Well, sure, she knows she’s smart enough when it comes to machines, and she wouldn’t be a Ranger if she wasn’t capable. But she also knows full well that she’s an abrasive, prickly mess. Far from perfect, far from what he deserves and nowhere near worth the risk. Being kicked out of the PPDC would be the least of his problems if anyone found out about this.

So, much as she's fantasised about hearing anything close to that, she still shuffles awkwardly, glad he can’t tell that she's blushing. ‘Don’t say that.'

‘That’s the truth.’ There’s no doubt there, just that stubborn insistence that tells her his mind's made up. 'I wanted to kiss you almost as soon as I saw you again.'

Really? _Oh_. Everything slots into place with a rush of clarity. The looks, the touches, the teasing, it hadn’t all been in her head, that really had been him flirting with her. All this time he’d been wanting the same thing as her while she’d been torturing herself over how he never could. It’s almost funny, just how wrong she’s apparently been.

Confident despite the darkness, he leans closer, breath a warm whisper against her skin. ‘Was I really being that subtle?'

Not so much in hindsight, that’s for sure. Honestly, she had written off a lot more than she probably should have. But better to be overcautious than wrong. ‘I thought I was just projecting.'

‘So did I.’ Some of the assurance goes out of his voice with that, exposing the hurt from before. ‘When you disappeared this morning I was sure I’d got it wrong, that you were shutting me out because I’d pushed you into this...'

Shit, they’re far too similar sometimes.

With a sudden surge of conviction, Chuck silences that stupid train of thought by pressing her lips against his. Fortunately, her eyes are adjusted enough to the darkness for her not to completely miss and embarrass herself. Actions speak louder than words, don’t they? And honestly, she’s been aching for another taste for too long now.

Rather than being annoyed that she’s skipping out on the conversation, for the time being at least, Herc is more than happy enough to go with it. Asserting control over the kiss, as if to prove that he’s just as much a part of this as her, he doesn’t hesitate to deepen it. Releasing her hands, he brings his own up to cup her face and pull her closer so that there’s no room to misinterpret his intentions. Because this is so much better than talking.

And doing this here is much better than on the couch. A lot less risk of inadvertently ending up back on the floor, and so much more room to get comfortable and more besides. Having no intention of letting go or stopping any time soon, if ever, Chuck throws her weight into pushing him down against the mattress. That way she can really enjoy the full length of his body, straddling his hips like this is just another spar but not being afraid to go for a bit of a grind.

She doesn’t get long to appreciate it, though, before the room abruptly spins and her back hits the bed. Pinned again, typical. Not that she has any problem with who’s in charge here, not when he’s kissing her so damn thoroughly. They’re at that desperate stage again, and she’s not at all ashamed to dig her fingers into his back, urging for more.

Except they both kind of need to breathe sometime and all too soon he breaks off, in spite of her small whine of protest. ‘You sure about this?'

‘Yeah.’ Even with an enthusiastic nod that can’t quite convey the depth of her answer, because she _is_ sure. This is what she wants; him. More than killing a Kaiju, more than piloting, more than anything in the world. ‘Are you?'

‘As long as you aren’t going to run away in the morning.'

No more running away, that’s a promise she can definitely make. If she’s sure that this isn’t a mistake to him, that he really wants this, why would she want to go anywhere? Chuck’s done fighting this.

So she gives a sly sort of smile, arches her back just a little, hoping that confidence pays off. ‘And miss round two?'

Judging from the low groan and the way his mouth crashes back into hers that was the right thing to say. Especially when Herc takes the opportunity to bodily press her into the mattress, hard. Maybe she isn’t quite as bad at this seduction thing as she'd thought. Except she’s not so sure her own rather loud moan is all that attractive, making an effort to hold the next one in.

Something made infinitely harder by the way that he’s trailing kisses down her neck and then suddenly he bites. Which - _shit_ \- is going to leave a mark, a problem she’s a bit too far gone to properly care about right now. It’s almost like he already knows that’s one of her weak spots.

‘I won’t let you go.’ From the way he growls that it could just as easily be meant as a warning as reassurance. Either way, it’s damn hot.

‘Who says I want to go anywhere?'

Turns out kissing is a great way of answering questions. Chuck has the feeling that they’re going to end up resorting to this a lot in the future, which is really not a bad prospect at all.

As she hooks a leg around his, angling in search of more friction, she can keenly feel the hardness of his arousal, though there’s definitely a few too many layers of clothing left between them. At least he’s already halfway to being undressed already. But there’s still nowhere near enough skin-on-skin contact going on right now. Even if one of his hands has already trailed up under her top, stroking her side. As amazing as this kissing is, it’s not enough this time. Not to convey everything she’s feeling, all these thoughts and urges she’d been hiding from him.

And seeing as she can’t really get her own clothes off right now, not without having to interrupt the moment, she drags a hand deliberately down his spine to push at the offending waistband. Just enough to give him the idea, for now, just in case he has any objections. They hadn’t gone nearly that far last time, in the end his shirt had been the only thing that came off in spite of her threat.

‘Sure?’

It briefly worries her that he isn’t quite so impatient as she is, but then the need takes over and she jerks her hips just to make the point completely clear. ‘ _Yes._ '

One more long, dirty kiss and he reluctantly pulls away. It’s not fair quite how smoothly he manages to strip off. And she seriously wishes that the light was on, to better appreciate it, right up until Herc slides closer again and begins to lift the hem of her shirt; ‘Your turn.'

Yeah, best to stay in the dark then. Much as she really, _really_ wants to finally fill in the tantalising blanks that the circuitry suit has left her Chuck doesn’t like the idea of him looking at her too closely. It might change his mind. Even though training and being a Ranger has helped to tone her up that doesn’t change the fact that she’s kind of gangly. She’s not as bad as she once was, true, but the thought remains.

Still, the light’s off and she wants, _needs_ , more of his skin against hers. So, she obligingly lifts her arms and lets him tug the top off, unable to keep in a slight grimace as it gets tossed to one side. But then his hands are back on her, exploring the fresh expanse of skin, his lips find hers again and it’s hard to care about that.

Gently he pushes her back down, pace staying slow rather than frantic despite how far they’ve already gone. Herc seems to want to take his time with this, kissing her thoroughly and just barely moving his hips against hers. Which is all good and well, but Chuck is kind of ashamed of how much she’s falling apart here. It’s almost too tender for her comfort, leaving her unsure whether it’s just overstimulation or her whacked up emotions that’s making her eyes start to sting.

Something must show in how tight she’s holding onto him, because he stops, pausing to look her in the eyes - or as much as he can in the darkness, anyway. ‘Okay?'

‘Yeah, just… don’t stop.’ Her voice is kind of embarrassingly wrecked, so it comes out as more of a plea than the order she was going for.

Fortunately that gets the same sort of result. But rather than just reaching down and pushing her pants down like Chuck really wants he carries on taking his time, drawing things out. As if he isn’t already driving her wild enough here without teasing her mercilessly like this. A thumb massages slowly against a nipple and sends a shudder through her as she bites her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.

‘Sensitive?’ Herc apparently sees that as a challenge, because a moment later he tries it again with his tongue.

' _Fuck!_ ’ For a fleeting moment, her mind goes blank, toes curling as she arches blindly into the sensation. That’s not something she was prepared for, made all the hotter because she can _feel_ his pleased smirk. ‘Bastard.'

Chuck would probably be blushing if it weren’t for the fact that all her blood’s kind of busy elsewhere. She’s not sure she’s going to be able to last for long at this rate, her muscles clenching tighter under the stimulation and pushing her ever closer to the edge. Fuck, she’s not even got rid of all her clothes yet.

Having successfully distracted her, he slides one of his hands under her waistband, fingers tracing down to graze the inside of her thigh. ‘How about here?'

Rather than wasting energy trying to get words together she just lifts her hips in invitation, silently urging him to just hurry up and get her naked already. This’ll probably be embarrassing later, how wanton she is, but right now she just wants more. Nothing but him, _this_ , matters.

Getting the message - though he’d have to be an idiot not to - Herc peels the layers off, tantalisingly slowly. Like this is some sort of striptease they’ve got going here. Once those last traces of clothing are disposed of, finding their own place on the floor, he takes the time to leisurely run his hands back up her legs. Reverent, as if he needs to touch every inch of her first.

‘God, d’you have any idea how hard it is to think about anything else when you show these off?’

Chuck might’ve tried to answer that, somehow, if he hadn’t chosen to follow it up with a tantalising, maddening, stroke along her pussy. Her entire body jolts, the pleasure of that one touch wringing out an annoyingly breathy gasp; ‘Dad…'

‘I know.’ He sounds so damn proud it gives her shivers.

Twisting her fingers in his hair, she pulls him down for more kissing. She doesn’t like him sitting back like that, feeling lonely without his body on top of her, even if he is giving her pussy such sweet attention.

Not selfish, and impatient for at least a feel, Chuck reaches down, finally sliding a hand around his cock. Hmm, she likes it; thick, firm, just a little bit wet... His hips jerk in response to her first experimental stroke, a low groan escaping his throat despite her having done pretty much nothing yet. It’s hard not to feel triumphant at that; looks like she isn’t the only one feeling sensitive today.

In retaliation or reward he bites another mark against her neck, taking the opportunity to ease a finger in. It’s a good thing they’ve got so much privacy out here or Chuck might be more concerned with all the noise they’re - _she’s_ \- making. Because damn, he knows how to take her apart, leaving her shivering and narrowing her focus down to the places where their bodies meet and nothing else.

Still, despite her plentiful encouragement, Herc continues to draw it out, adding a second finger and delicately stretching her out. He’s so much more patient about this than she is, much more in control, and maybe that should worry her. Fortunately, he’s not too bothered by the fact that she’s really not doing quite as much for him at this point, just some kind of clumsy stroking.

 _Fuck._ Somewhere in the back of her lust-filled mind she can’t help wondering how much it might hurt. It’s not like he’s small and she’s never had anything more than her own fingers inside her before now. But even if it’s uncomfortable at first it’ll be more than worth it. She’s waited too long already, damn it.

‘C’mon, _please_.'

‘Sure?'

Chuck’s torn between laughing or screaming in frustration, even though she does understand why he keeps asking that. But, honestly, how could she not be sure when she’s panting and begging for him like this? ‘Fuck’s sake, I’m not _fragile_ , just fuck me already.'

That earns her a swat on the ass, although he sounds less annoyed than amused. ‘Bossy.’

Her moan gets muffled by another bruising kiss, and she doesn’t know how long she’s going to get away with hiding that particular weakness of hers. Hmm, all the things they’ve got to do to each other. That’ll be fun, working through that serious backlog of fantasies she’s accumulated over the months. Find out what he’s been imagining too... First things first.

Patience finally giving way, Herc takes her hand off him. Not before she gets in one last leisurely stroke, though. And maybe just feeling each other up all night wouldn’t be such a bad thing...

_Oh…_

It does hurt as he starts to push in, or at least it feels strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, but it’s enough to make her breath catch in her throat. Yeah, fingers first was definitely a good idea. Chuck might be worried about how she’s probably leaving some serious scratches down his back if she had the space of mind to think about anything much beyond the feel of his dick slowly sliding home inside of her.

‘ _Daddy…_ '

He groans, loudly, and it’s the most sensual sound she’s ever heard.

She has no idea how this keeps getting more intense, so sure that she can’t handle any more. But it does, and she does, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s like a sort of echo of the Drift, the meld physical rather than mental but no less potent for it. Somehow she knows that this is what she’s really been craving every time the neural handshake breaks. And she can’t even wait to find out how good this'll be with that extra layer of connection on top of the everything else he’s making her feel.

Although he pauses, waits, to make sure that’s she’s adjusted to him, Herc knows better than to voice the question out loud again. Instead, he asks with a kiss, confirming the permission he already has and leaving her even more breathless.

When he does move, slowly at first, that takes it to another level, and Chuck’s sure she isn’t going to be able to speak in the morning from the way she keeps on moaning like a porno. Not that he seems to mind that, quite the opposite, trying to coax even more out of her.

Together they really aren’t at all quiet about things, throwing caution to the wind and going at it hard once he’s satisfied that she’s not going to break. And even though she has no experience outside of her head that doesn’t stop them quickly finding a wonderful sync. After all, all she really needs to do is follow his lead, match his movements and let him push her towards fresh pleasure.

God, Drift compatibility really does translate into sex, doesn't it?

Before long, though, she can feel him tensing. It's clear that he’s getting close to the edge in the way his body seems to shiver and his kisses start to get messier, moans louder. Even when Herc fights he always seems to stay in control, so it’s kind of thrilling getting him to let go a bit more. And yeah, she's the one doing this to him. Fuck. That's a beautiful thing. Until he starts to pull back. Which is not remotely on in any way.

Cutting that idea right off, Chuck tightens her legs around his waist and stops him. At least she’s not completely melted yet, despite it all. ‘Don’t you fucking _dare_.'

From the unsteady breath Herc takes it’s clear that he’s wavering, holding still rather than either drawing out or pushing back in as she wants. ‘We shouldn’t-'

‘Just this once.’ The demand melts back into something a little too close to begging. But Chuck knows that this is what she needs. And she knows that he really wants it as well. So why argue? It’s not like she can’t sort it out later if she has to.

It’s not quite enough, because even though his resistance is paper thin he’s still hesitating and it's slightly ruining the mood. So she nuzzles his cheek, enjoying the rough feel of his stubble, and puts on her best attempt at seduction. ‘Please, Daddy?'

That does the trick, as he curses and tangles their mouths together, giving her what she wants and sinking in even deeper. Which is all really fucking hot so it doesn’t take them too long to make up for that lost time. And she pushes back harder, nails definitely digging into his skin now, wanting to drive away any last doubts and make this as good for him as she can. As well as wanting to feel every last second of this for herself.

This is where she would’ve woken up if it were a dream. Her mind’s never been able to tell her what this would feel like and she wants to know. So much.

_Ah..._

Quite what it is that finally pushes her over the edge - the angle of that one thrust, his hand squeezing her hip hard enough to bruise, the warm words of encouragement he's breathing against her skin - she doesn’t know, only that it’s better, more satisfying, just everything. It leaves her panting like she’s coming back up for air, eyes stinging again in spite of herself. But, much as her body feels like going loose and relaxing, she can’t finish without him, can she?

All it takes is a few more thrusts, Herc tenses, shivers, and then he’s there. Which is almost enough to set her off again, the rough intake of breath and the feel of him just letting it all go. _Perfect_.

Knowing that she’s probably beaming like a love drunk idiot right now, and at least he can’t see that, she absently traces patterns across his skin with her fingertips. Hopefully, he’s feeling somewhere near the same sort of contented bliss that she is. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but Chuck can almost feel the ghost of his mind brushing against her own, picking up no trace of regret. And if she never had to move again she’d be happy.

But, as the air starts to cool off and the initial rush of endorphins begins to fade, Herc shifts. Although it’s inevitable she still whines when he pulls out, not wanting to lose the intimacy of the moment, that connection. What makes it worse is that he goes and sits up, moving away and leaving her feeling acutely bereft.

Another noise of longing slips out before she can stop it. And she’s too wiped out to care about how pathetic it sounds, yet.

‘Shh…’ Having retrieved the covers from where they’d been pushed off the bed somewhere in amongst all that, he settles back down and pulls her right back against him. ‘I’m not going anywhere.'

 _Damn straight._ Even more than the actual climax itself, she’s been craving this for so long. Basking in the afterglow snuggled up against him, skin to skin and nothing in the way. Maybe later she’ll worry about the line they’ve crossed here, about what this means for them, what comes next, but not right now.

‘I love you.’ Herc’s voice barely more than a murmur in the dark but it’s clear enough all the same.

Pressing a kiss against his collarbone, Chuck settles happily against his chest as the exhaustion starts to overtake her. ‘Love you too.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, definitely going to hell now. ^^;
> 
> As always, lovely readers, thanks for stopping by.


	33. Safety Precautions

Chuck could very happily get used to this. Coming back round slowly, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, with the feel of his fingers tracing absentminded patterns across her skin. She can’t think of the last time that she felt this at peace. It doesn’t quite seem real, it’s too good, but that doesn’t mean she can’t indulge in it, shifting a little closer with a contented sigh.

Alerted to the fact that she’s awake, he still keeps his voice low, nice and intimate. ‘Hey.'

Just because she can, Chuck slides up to reply with a soft kiss. Maybe the thrill of being able to do that will wear off eventually, but she doubts that it ever will. ‘Hey.'

Even though the curtains are still drawn daylight’s filtering into the room, the fault of the still-open door. It doesn’t feel like it’s that late in the day yet, and even if it was she doesn’t have any intention of going anywhere anytime soon. As it is she’s still in that comfortable, sleepy headspace where self-consciousness doesn’t really factor, not paying much thought to anything outside of how good this is. Besides, nothing much else matters when he draws her into another, more leisurely kiss.

They have got a lot of lost time to be making up for, after all.

Still, the incoming question is obvious even before Herc pulls back to ask it. ‘Okay?'

‘Yeah.’ It should probably be embarrassing, the no doubt sappy smile on her face, but that seems a whole lot less important now. No real need to hide how completely in love with him she is after all. ‘Never better.'

‘Good.’ He sounds so damn _pleased_ , gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and there’s no question that he’s still happy about this.

It can’t be quite so simple as this, there’s still a whole lot of stuff they really need to be talking about, but this is a moment she has no intention of letting go of so quickly. So, rather than worrying about anything outside of these four walls, Chuck puts her mouth back to better use. After all, she really needs to get in more practice at kissing, because enthusiasm can only go so far and she’ll be damned if she gives him anything less than her best.

It’s all so natural, her shifting to straddle him as his hands stray lower, encouraging, and she seriously regrets that they didn’t get round to this a whole lot sooner. This probably shouldn’t feel so right, she should probably be at least a little more bothered by the fact that they’re still very naked here, but shit, she doesn’t care. Especially when she can feel the effect this is already having on him.

Adjusting her hips, Chuck lets herself be pulled more fully against him, chasing that addictive friction...

The bark is close enough to make her jump, instantly snapping out of the moment and pulling away. Sure enough, looking back up at her from the side of the bed, tail wagging like he has no idea what’s going on in here, is Max. Oh god, how long has he been there?

Seeming less mortified and more frustrated, Herc sighs, though he doesn’t stop trailing a very distracting hand along her side. Not the best timing in the world, obviously. But they can’t just carry straight on now, because it’s morning and Max probably needs to go out.

Not really wanting to leave, but not exactly having much choice in the matter, Chuck struggles to figure out where she should be looking right now. ’Shit, um, I should-'

‘No, I’ll let him out.’ He’s a lot more decisive about it, extricating himself from their tangle of limbs and sheets with relative ease. That doesn’t stop him giving her ass a quick squeeze on the way, though. ‘Keep the bed warm for me.'

Which totally isn’t a fair thing to leave her with.

On the bright side, even with the curtains still pulled, she does get a nice chance to appreciate the view as he walks away. Doesn’t exactly help her feel less turned on, though being reminded of Max’s presence had definitely been like a cold bucket of water down the spine. Thank god he’d been asleep last night. Chuck doesn’t think she likes the idea of him seeing, even though that’d easily be the least screwed up thing in this situation.

Because this is still… Even if they both want this, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s very definitely illegal. Which wouldn’t bother her if it weren’t for the idea of what might happen to Herc if they ever got found out. Some people think every pair of co-pilots is fucking, sure, but now, in their case, it’s true. And if people can read into completely platonic interaction, how much easier will it be to figure out what’s going on between the two of them now that none of it’s innocent anymore? Not that it ever was, apparently, but at least then they both had deniability going for them.

How the hell are they going to manage this?

Chuck’s spent so much time trying not to want this that she’s never actually given any thought to an after, to how exactly they’re supposed to hide this when they’re living in a place that doesn’t really have much in the way of privacy, outside the confines of their quarters. Because, shit, she’s not sure how much restraint she’s going to have now that she knows it’s not all in her head. Not unless he really tones down on the flirting. And the touching. And the… well, _everything_.

Making sure to close the door behind him, Herc takes a detour to open the curtains, just enough to let some more light in without completely flooding the room. Daytime. Instinctively, she folds in on herself a little tighter, still not entirely keen on the idea of being looked at too closely when it’s not safe and dark.

Of course, it doesn’t take Drift compatibility for him to be able to pick up on that. Settling back down next to her, he leaves some tentative space but still reaches out to cup her cheek. ‘Less okay now?'

Chuck nods, even if his touch makes some of the tension ease. She wishes it didn’t have to be complicated, that they could just be together without any of the extra worry, but that’s not the reality they live in. It was a lot easier to forget that before she’d fully woken up. ‘Doesn’t it worry you?'

‘Of course it does. The thought of losing you again...’ That’s not something he needs to spell out, not if that idea's even half as awful for him as it is for her. ‘But we kept it from each other for this long, we can keep it to ourselves now.'

It’s hard to tell just how much of that confidence is genuine and how much of it is simply him trying to make her feel better. There is something to be said for the fact that neither of them had let it get into the Drift in eight-odd months of working together. But watching their thoughts during the neural handshake isn’t the same as watching their every interaction whenever they’re not alone. Just one wrong move...

‘If anyone finds out-'

‘Then we’ll deal with it.’ Herc says it with a certainty that doesn’t invite question, and apparently he already has thought this through. ‘So long as we’re careful it shouldn’t come to that.'

This is still one hell of a risk, but short of swearing never to touch each other like this again there’s not much else they can do. And right now Chuck’s pretty confident that he’d struggle with that just as badly as she would. They’d probably last all of a day, if that. So, all they need to do is just carry on like nothing’s changed. She can do that, for this, for him.

So, seeing as that’s not exactly something they need to be worrying about right now, she hazards a sly smile. ‘At least the walls are soundproof.'

‘Good thing.’ Happy enough to leave the worries for another time, he closes the gap between them to breathe his next words against her skin. 'I want to hear how much louder you can moan.'

Oh.

Seeing as words have gone straight out of her mind, Chuck simply responds by tackling him to the mattress. Or at least she tries to. The element of surprise isn’t as much on her side as it could’ve been, and all too soon she's flat on her back again. This isn’t the kwoon, he could at least have the decency not to pin her so fast. But her instinctive objection gets promptly lost, eclipsed by a fresh wave of arousal and approval when he rolls his hips just so.

Rather than giving him what he obviously wants, she still manages to bite back a moan and keep her voice relatively under control; ‘You’re filthy.'

In retaliation he gives her ass a pointed squeeze, driving away any doubt that he hasn’t figured that little weakness of hers out already. ‘You’re one to talk.'

_And I wonder where I got that from, hmm?_ Still, it's good to be on the same wavelength and it's not like she's got any problems with filthiness. Besides, how is she ever supposed to think anything _but_ dirty thoughts around him after this? Shit, she is seriously going to have to work on controlling her blushing.

Not right now, though, because right now there’s far more important things to be thinking about. Like wrapping her legs tighter around him and arching her back in invitation, seeking out more of that friction. Enough talk, she’s seriously horny here.

Herc’s more than happy enough to oblige, pushing her harder against the bed with a low groan. No hesitation, no judgment, letting the heat build as their bodies move against each other, skin on skin and so good. It’s just natural, the way they fit, how easily they respond to each other.

But, when that delicious pressure starts to build and it feels like they might be about to get to the best bit he stops, abruptly backing off with an all too decisive shift. Even when it’s really damn clear he wants to go further.

Her whine of objection only gets her a calming stroke, though; a poor consolation.

'Not this time, sweetheart.'

Not even a little bit? Well, admittedly she’d only end up doing her damnedest to convince him to go all the way again, and they both know it. Still, it’s hard to be graceful about this, propping herself up on her elbows with a grumble. 'You seriously don't have anything?'

Unsurprisingly, Herc shakes his head, because if he did they wouldn’t have had that song and dance last night. At least he’s suitably apologetic, even if he is still being a bastard and holding off. ‘Seemed too much like tempting fate.'

Trying not to let the extent of her disappointment show, Chuck huffs. Much as she understands that doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone and gotten her all turned on only to leave her high and dry. ‘Well, you owe me after this.'

He only takes a moment to consider that. ‘Maybe not.'

Before she gets a chance to question the sly promise in those words, he cuts her off with a long, demanding kiss. Which, yeah, is still damn great, but that doesn’t exactly solve the problem here. Unless she can get him worked up enough to forget about being cautious, that is.

Either sensing the beginnings of her plan or just being a tease again, Herc breaks it off all too soon in favour of turning his attention to her neck. From the satisfaction in the way he looks at her and rubs a thumb across the skin those marks from last night are probably pretty clear. Much as she likes this marking impulse of his it’s something they’re going to have to get out of their system before they get back to the Dome. Seems like a dead giveaway, unless people assume she’s sleeping around with someone else.

‘Dad...'

That doesn't get her any more of an explanation, just another nip before he shifts his attention lower still. While the feel of his mouth against her skin gives her shivers Chuck can’t help being a little less than ecstatic about this development. Close attention like this is a bit more intense than she’s entirely comfortable with, the keen awareness of her own body it stirs up, particularly when she doesn’t have much option to distract herself.

‘Hey.’ A hand caresses her cheek as he pauses in his attentions, the order gentle but firm. ‘Eyes on me.'

She can’t resist that, biting her lip and meeting his intense look only a little reluctantly. It’s a challenge, and she can’t well back down from one of those. Especially when he rewards her by running his tongue over a nipple, not breaking eye contact even as he leans in closer and sucks.

‘ _Fuck._ ’

Oh, that’s good.

Maybe if he keeps this up she won't hold that earlier disappointment against him. Though she still gets a hand in his hair, gripping harder in a rather futile attempt to encourage him on. She really doesn't have his patience.

In between kisses he murmurs; ‘You’re so beautiful.'

Feeling her face heating up in spite of herself, Chuck looks away again. Of course he _has_ to say that.

Watching apparently isn’t optional, though, as Herc swats her hip to get her focus back on him. 'No hiding.'

Arguing isn’t going to get her anywhere, and she doesn’t really feel like putting up a fight right now anyway. After all, if he’s arguing with her he isn’t doing something better with his mouth. Easier to go with it and just try not to think too much. Which admittedly isn’t too hard, not when he smiles at her, slow and wicked, and presses another kiss against her skin.

‘So good.'

Confident that he has her full attention again, Herc traces a deliberate path across her stomach. If he notices the tautness of her muscles he doesn’t let on, taking no more or less time over it as if he intends to caress every inch of skin.

‘So perfect.'

It’s increasingly clear where he’s going with this, but even as she starts to tense with anticipation he doesn’t stop taking his damn time. Chuck gets the feeling that’s the point to this, why he’s constantly checking that she’s not looking away.

Finally, he nudges her legs wider apart, leisurely spreading her out. There’s an enticing graze of stubble as he nuzzles the inside of one thigh. 'And all mine.'

_Absolutely._ Always has been, always will be. She’s pretty sure he understands that without her having to say it out loud. They may not be Drifting but the look they're sharing carries enough meaning that they almost might as well be.

At least this time Herc doesn’t bother to ask for permission, giving her thigh another languid stroke and finally getting to the point as he runs his tongue slowly against her pussy. Distantly, Chuck’s pleased that her resultant moan is a lot quieter this time around, even if the stimulation’s no less intense. Because, fuck, the _things_ he can do with his mouth...

It might be embarrassing how quickly he reduces her to a quivering mess, if she had the presence of mind to think about anything much beyond the way he's sucking her clit. He just seems to know exactly how to draw the best sensations out of her, able to read her body without effort. Probably a Drift thing, that. And maybe this wasn’t what she'd had in mind but damn, she’s not complaining, not at all.

Wanting more, she bucks into the contact, getting lost in the feel of his lips moving against her even if he’s still being so fucking slow about it. ‘Come on, please.'

His fingers dig harder into her hips by way of response, pulling her closer. Rather than being a tease, for once, he gives her exactly what she wants and slides his tongue inside, starting to work her open in earnest. _Yeah_ , sometimes it really pays to ask nicely.

And damn if he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this just as much as she is, if not more, the small noises he makes sending fresh waves of heat through her. But even though Herc does start to up the pace he’s staying decidedly in control, keeping her entirely at his mercy and driving her progressively more desperate. All Chuck can really do is take it, still gripping hard at him but otherwise powerless.

Time goes elastic, her senses narrowing down to the sound of her own ragged breathing, the skilful slide of his tongue, the sunlight spilling across their skin. Release comes torturously close but each time he keeps her back from tipping over the edge, teasing her still and changing it up every time her thighs start to quiver with that telltale tension. It’s hard to complain, though, all that she’s capable of producing is a jumble of whimpers, moans and broken cursing.

But, inevitably, _finally_ the pressure builds to a peak and he lets her go, groaning and lapping up her come as she sees stars.

It leaves her panting like she just ran a marathon, kind of spaced out and shivering through the aftershocks. Christ, if he wants to do that again she definitely won’t stop him. Even though it feels like her body’s gone light she rubs her fingers against his cheek, as if that’s adequate thanks. But, as the endorphins fade, she gives him a tug, feeling in need of some closer company.

Work done, Herc settles back down beside her, seeming more than a little pleased with himself. ‘How’s that for a round two?'

She can’t help a huff of breathy laughter, somehow finding the strength to roll onto her side and press more fully against him. No point pretending that she isn’t completely weak to it. ‘Not bad.'

They both know she’s being facetious, but he doesn’t bother to call her on it, not this time. Instead he just brings his mouth to hers, the taste on his tongue almost sweet and she can already feel herself getting turned on again.

Still… Chuck’s not forgetting about him. While she’s not exactly skilled at this, _yet_ , that doesn’t mean she has any hesitation in sliding her hand lower. It’s only fair to return the favour, after all, even if she’s not quite got the will to be leaving his arms.

With a tentative squeeze she runs her thumb across the head, and enjoys the sharp intake of breath that drags out of him. Her turn to be in control. ‘But we should probably take care of this.'

Even though she’s not a hundred percent confident she tries not to let that show, and really it’s not that difficult. It’s good and clear when she does the right thing, feeling the way he tenses as she nudges against his balls. Besides, after all his teasing Chuck doesn’t feel too bad about keeping her strokes nice and slow. Gives her a good chance to enjoy the feel of him, and judging from the way he presses back against her it’s driving him no less crazy.

Only patient when it suits him, Herc soon gets a hand over hers, picking up the pace that little bit more. Something about helping him jerk off like this seems almost dirtier than last night. It helps teach her exactly the right sort of rhythm too, even if it seems like she’d already done a pretty good job of figuring out how he likes it.

Gratifyingly, he doesn’t hold out for that long, already wound tight enough from all that waiting, breathing out hard as he lets go. Leaving a right mess down her front in the process, his hand absently smearing his come across her skin. Which, honestly, if she stops to think about it she rather appreciates, at least in the moment.

That fleeting thought must show in her expression, because when she looks back up he’s giving her a proud sort of smirk. ‘See, filthy.'

Although it’s tempting to whack him for that, Chuck makes do with chasing away his smug expression with another kiss. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

-

'No.’

Sinking lower in the seat, Chuck folds her arms tighter and lets her glare tell him just what she thinks of the suggestion. Seriously, it's only been a few hours and already he's just asking for trouble.

'You came all this way just to stay in the car?'

Maybe it's stupid, but she didn't want to be left behind. It's a nice day, be a shame to spend all of it inside, and so maybe she doesn't like the idea of letting him out of her sight for too long. Just in case. Even if it means she has to sit here in the truck and resist him trying to convince her to tag along. Because no normal girl goes with her dad to stock up on condoms, end of.

'You can manage on your own.'

'Alright, suit yourself.’ Contrary to his breezy tone, he takes a moment to scan the mostly empty car park before leaning across the seat. A hand finds its way onto her bare thigh, squeezing temptingly, and his voice is hot in her ear. 'You would've only distracted me anyway.'

Before she can get it together to swipe at him Herc’s already swinging the door closed, shooting a smug look over his shoulder. Bastard. Definitely a good thing she’s staying put, there’s no way he wouldn’t have tried something in there. Now that he knows exactly the effect he has on her it’s clear he’s going to take every opportunity to get under her skin that he can.

Which is good, if a little aggravating, because it means he’s already pretty comfortable about this. Even after everything that’d happened between them over the last couple of days that’s still a relief. It keeps the knot that’s been threatening to form in her stomach at bay. Now she just has to worry about them not being found out.

Although there’s no denying that she rather enjoyed him marking her up Chuck’s very keenly aware of the fact that her neck now looks seriously incriminating. Already she’s tugged the collar of her t-shirt up about a dozen times since stepping out of the house, but even between that and keeping her hair down it still feels too exposed. Best case scenario, anyone would think she’d been getting it on with some random. Which isn’t the sort of speculation she really feels like dealing with, and she doubts Herc would take too kindly to it either. Even if it might be for the best.

A guy comes out of the store, walking past on the way to his own car, and though it probably looks suspicious Chuck pulls her baseball cap lower. As if that’s really any shield against being recognised. Sure, it’s been a while since Striker’s last deployment, but it seems like the more time passes the more likely people are to pick up on her identity. Mostly because she’s usually all of a few feet away from her dad.

In some ways this shift in their relationship might not to be too obvious, considering how tactile they’ve been with each other from the start. As far as anyone else knows that closeness is purely platonic, seeing as she’d been sure it was just that for so long herself. Still, she can’t quite shake a sadness that they’re never going to be able to be open about this. He deserves better than that.

But… under the cover of giving her collar another tug, she rubs at the marked skin, remembering. He meant it, she can’t deny that. And as long as he wants her there’s no point pretending she wants anyone else, no matter whether it’d be safer. More than anything she can’t wait to get back to bed.

That’s a pretty mutual thought, considering the fact that Herc's back pretty quickly. Probably a lot faster than if she’d let herself get dragged in there, so clearly she made the right choice. Although that relief only lasts until he turns to meet her expectant look and shakes his head.

‘They’re all out.'

Fuck, seriously? Pouting, Chuck lets her head fall back with a heavy sigh. That's one problem with being out of the city, finding things is even more of a chore than normal. And every minute they have to spend looking for some damned contraception is one less minute for them to be doing better things with. Namely each other.

A telltale rustle promptly distracts her from her disappointment and he’s smirking at her, pack in hand. ‘Well, they are now.’

‘Bastard!’ Even though she doesn’t hesitate to punch his arm her annoyance is tempered by relief. If she had any sort of resolve she’d be tempted to make him pay for that properly, but her sense of irritation pales in comparison to how much she wants to get him back out of those clothes.

‘Love you too.’ Unrepentant, far too amused with himself, Herc doesn’t waste any time getting the engine started and turning back towards home.

Alright, she can forgive him. Not that there was ever really a question of that. And it’s not like Chuck hasn’t been a bit of a tease herself, having had that comment of his in mind when she'd pulled on the shorts. Testing. Still, she pulls her legs up, running her hands down them, a subconscious sort of gesture as she tries to resist the urge to stare at him. Or worse. It’s almost harder to wait now than it was on the way here.

Rather than focusing on exactly how much longer it is until they get back to the house, or letting herself get caught up in thinking about what comes next, she decides to get some of her remaining questions out of the way. Seeing as they’re probably not going to be doing too much in the way of proper talking for a while. ‘When you suggested coming out here, were you hoping that something might happen?'

‘I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind.’ He shoots a look at her, as if in reassurance that this wasn’t all some sort of seduction ploy. Not that it’d really been a question of that. ‘But I did need a break, and so did you.'

Chuck only agrees with half of that, making no attempt to hide her frown. ‘I don’t-'

'All I’m saying is that it’s good to remember that the program isn’t everything.’ It’s clear that it’s not meant as an attack, his softer tone well judged to keep her hackles from going up instantly.

Once she wouldn’t have hesitated to argue with that, back when getting into the Academy and a Jaeger had seemed like her only shot at ever seeing him again. It still is so much to her, because being a Ranger is what gives her purpose and eases that sick feeling of guilt that still twists in her stomach sometimes. She still needs to prove herself properly, and she can hardly do that if she’s not ready and waiting in the Dome.

But, what she’d realised some time ago, is that her everything isn’t the program, it’s him.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Even if Chuck might not be entirely on the same page about it, she’d rather not trigger off more of his worrying and kill the mood completely. Thinking back to the last time he'd tried this subject with her more of it clicks into place. ‘Perspective, right?'

'Right.’ From his roguish grin it’s clear that he follows the connection, as if she'd needed any further confirmation. They really have been dancing around this for months, haven't they?

So then... ‘Shit, you really did want me to strip off at the lake!'

‘I was sure you wouldn’t actually go for it.’ Which isn’t much of a defence, really. Not that he’s actually trying to apologise for it, not now that it’s obvious that it’s the sort of idea she appreciates. 'Can’t blame me for trying, though.’

Well, aside from how him and his not really all that subtle flirting had been driving her slowly insane. The number of thoughts she’s been having to try and keep out of the Drift purely because of him...

Very definitely resisting the urge to get closer, Chuck still does a bad job of sounding reproachful. It’s hard to come across as anything but into it when those ideas are back at the front of her mind. ‘You’re shameless.'

‘Careful there, sweetheart, you’re hardly innocent.'

'Oh, shut up.' Subconsciously, she rubs her neck, feeling the blush starting to burn from the memories. Because, yeah, she’s not really in much of a position to be calling anyone else shameless, is she? Even more so when she has every intention of picking right up where they left off as soon as they’re safely behind a closed door again.

Wrestling with the feelings of embarrassment, she watches the trees sliding past and tries to regain her composure. But the silence doesn't stretch for too long before he decides it's his turn to ask something.

'In Manila...' Though Herc very deliberately keeps his eyes on the road it's clear that his focus is still on her, waiting for her answer. 'Did you really think I needed to piss?'

Oh. Chuck had really hoped he hadn't remembered that as vividly as she had, because she totally hasn’t replayed that particular memory over and over in her head. Fuck, she _knew_ she should've pushed it a little bit further.

The blush worsens and she has to put her face in her hands, because really that should’ve been a dead giveaway, shouldn’t it? ‘What else was I supposed to think?'

'That I was imagining how good you’d look sucking my cock.' It's impressive just how casually he can say that, although considering what he was doing with his mouth earlier she shouldn’t be so surprised.

Trying to maintain the illusion of being unaffected and not combust on the spot, she crosses her arms and turns it back on him. ‘Then you shouldn't have said you needed a piss, should you?'

'I panicked.' He shakes his head, regretful, though it's not like she really blames him for not trying something back then. It was a big leap to take. 'I was so close to giving in and... I was afraid it might've just been the Drift hangover making you so... affectionate.'

Yeah, she had been kind of all over him, hadn't she? Still, there’s something gratifying in hearing that, and rather than wallow in embarrassment Chuck decides to just roll with it. Leaning just that little bit further across the seat, she brushes a hand not-so-subtly up his leg. 'So I really was turning you on?'

He shivers, undisguised hunger in his lingering glance. ‘You have no idea.'

Oh, she might, if it’s anything like that look is making her feel. The air’s gone positively electric in here and she’s pretty sure it’s not just the past they’re talking about right now. Shit. It’s a good thing they’re almost back, or else she might not be able to contain herself, squirming and rubbing absently at her own legs just to give her hands something to do.

She’s out of the truck the instant it stops, wasting no time heading for the door and just maybe putting a bit of a swing in her step. Honestly, if she stopped to look at her dad right now they’d probably end up having sex out here. Which wouldn’t be any less satisfying, but she’d rather get back to the bed. This time.

As it is, Chuck barely makes it inside before he catches up, spinning her around by the waist. Nothing to worry about out here, after all. Without any hesitation she gets her hands in his shirt and they meet halfway in a rather desperate, messy kiss. Yeah, enough waiting.

Confident that he won’t drop her, she quickly throws any attempt at not being shameless right out the window and jumps up to hook her legs around his waist. Fortunately the move doesn’t seem to take him by surprise, warm hands moving to scoop her up properly and pressing her harder against him. God, it’s a heady reminder how strong he is, even if it’s not like she’s all that heavy really.

In an attempt to compensate for how quickly she’s already coming undone again, Chuck takes a moment to check; ‘You’ve got the-'

‘Yeah.’ After that long diversion it’d be pretty silly to have forgotten, though it's questionable whether they would've stopped even if he had. Especially when one of his hands has already found its way down her shorts. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so good.'

Fuck, as if she’s not turned on enough already. Honestly, she thinks she could get off just from listening to him talk dirty, not that it’s something she’s going to take the time to test when all she wants is the feel of his skin against hers.

Taking advantage of her leverage, she gets in a deliberate grind against his increasingly obvious hard-on, just to make her approval clear. ‘Yes please, Daddy.'

His grip tightens, because apparently that does it for him, whether it’s just the plea or the words themselves. But, showing an admirable ability to multitask, Herc still has the presence of mind to remember that they're meant to be taking this somewhere more comfortable. Even if maybe fucking here in the hall doesn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment.

Somehow they make it back to the bedroom without having to break apart, tumbling onto the mattress, and it’s almost as if they hadn’t even left. Aside from the fact that Chuck’s been waiting far, far too long for this now, burning up with an intoxicating mix of need and want. She’s addicted, no doubt about that.

Managing to roll so that she’s on top for once, she doesn’t even pause to think about it before she strips off her t-shirt and lobs it against the wall. Probably not the sexiest way to go about undressing, but she’s too caught up in the moment to care about that now. All that matters is him.

Hopefully this state of near-constant horniness and all-consuming need will start to ease off a bit later, though, because otherwise she’s going to have to spend a lot of time resisting the urge to push him into empty rooms and jump his bones.

Getting rid of her bra naturally turns out to be considerably less smooth, but she disposes of it soon enough. So long as she can hold onto this confidence she should be alright, and it’s hard to be self-conscious when one of his hands is sliding into her briefs and his breath is hot against her neck.

‘God, what you do to me...'

She feels like that should be her line. It’s far too much to put into words, though, the sheer depth of the things that he makes her feel, at least right now. Maybe the next time they Drift she can show him, assuming she doesn’t psych herself out about exposing the full intensity of her love for him.

But right now, it’s too much. They can do the tender thing after, when Chuck doesn’t feel like she’s burning up with need. First things first, she wants him to fuck her hard enough that she’ll feel it for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure it’ll be a relief to hear that next chapter there will be something other than more (bad) smut, because it’s about time they were getting back to the Shatterdome. And all the fun that entails ;)
> 
> On a bit of a housekeeping note, it just recently came to my attention that way back at the start I’d inadvertently set the endnote for the first chapter as the endnote for the _entire_ work. So, yeah, that's why that awful cringy thing kept popping back up like a bad smell. Safe to say now that nobody will be seeing that ever again, though.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for stopping by, lovely readers.


	34. Plain Sight

All too soon their time is up. Even though there's no denying her itch to be back at the Dome, and ready for the call, Chuck still wishes they had longer. Because this is where it starts to get… difficult. Away from here there'll be no more making out whenever they feel like it, they’ll both have to start practicing some sort of restraint.

Which is why, instead of locking up and heading off like they really should be, she's ended up backed up against the kitchen counter, being kissed like it’s going out of fashion with her hands down his trousers. Might as well take advantage of this privacy one last time, right?

He's pretty hard already and really it'd be a shame to make him come in his pants. If they make a mess then they’re never going to leave, which would probably lead to more questions than it’s worth. So, she gives him one last rub to tide him over, smiling at his instinctive noise of protest, and pushes the offending clothing all the way down. Taking advantage of the surprise she flips their positions, because if she's got anything to say about it then he's going to need the support more than her.

‘You need a hand with this?'

She doesn't give him much of an opportunity to reply to that, sinking down to her knees and running her fingers feather-light along his length. If she's learnt anything these last few days - outside of the fact that they both have a lot of stamina - it's that anticipation can make things even better.

‘Or maybe a mouth?'

To illustrate the point she leans in and licks a deliberate line from the base to the head. The way he groans is encouragement enough, but she can be patient. When it comes to appreciating him at least.

So Chuck teases him, running her tongue over his cock, slowly, and keeping a steadying hand on his thigh. Even without experience she can make this part good, which may or may not be part of why she takes her time over it. Once it gets to the proper business of sucking him off she just has to hope that winging it works. After all, she does have a very vivid imagination to draw on.

‘ _Christ._ ’ If there was any doubt that she’s doing the right thing the harsh way Herc breathes his words would erase it. 'You're so good.'

Might be arguable how much that word applies to her when she’s down on her knees and licking her dad’s cock. But it still makes her warm with pride to hear it. She’s so weak to his praise, whether she deserves it or not, and honestly she thinks she’d do almost anything just to hear him say that.

It’s that, more than the way his fingers twist in her hair or his impatient little thrusts, that convinces her to show some mercy on him. Chuck knows better than to try taking him in completely right off the bat, though, because while enthusiasm can apparently be hot enough, taking it slow is more seductive. And she needs all the help with that she can. So, she keeps it leisurely, looking up through her lashes to watch his expression as she parts her lips and slides the tip into her mouth.

Herc shivers, running a hand down the back of her neck, stroking softly in encouragement. Enjoying this, but not quite enough for her liking. It takes a lot to push him to the point of desperation. But she’s learning. Like how a thoughtful hum earns her a rather nice moan. Sure, she’s the noisy one, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be made to give as good as he gets.

Gradually Chuck pushes further, hoping not to get him off until she’s managed to get the whole length of his dick in her mouth. It’s not entirely easy but she’s persistent. And he does help, consciously or not, with every slide of her tongue encouraging his hips to push, taking him deeper before she pulls back again and repeats.

Some of that restraint starts to slip once she starts to pick up the pace, though, because she’s enjoying this too damn much. And it certainly seems to be doing it for him, his breathing getting progressively more ragged as he leans back harder against the counter.

Chuck’s only response is to suck, twisting her wrist in tandem and feeling him tensing tighter as he gets closer to that edge. Part of her wonders if she should slow back down, to drag this out longer the same way he likes to do with her. But the longer she draws this out the more turned on she’s going to feel, and she’d really rather not spend the ride back to the Dome squirming in her seat.

There’s a particularly urgent tug on her hair, interrupting her rhythm. ‘I’m going to-'

_Exactly._ She stops him with a look, having no intention of taking her mouth away from where it is. Can’t afford to make a mess, after all.

It doesn’t take much more before he shudders, that idea apparently a real turn on for him. Good to know. Such as how much she likes the salty-sweet taste, making sure to drink it all down like a good girl.

Once she’s licked away the last traces of his come, Chuck pulls up his pants and tries to straighten him back up a little. Partly because he’s still a bit blissed out and partly because it reduces the risk of them getting distracted all over again. Her knees hurt a bit from the floor, probably not the best way to be going into the journey but that's a price she's willing to pay.

More for show than anything, she wipes the back of a hand across her mouth, just on the off chance any escaped. ‘Still alive?'

Fingers promptly tangle in her collar, pulling her into a messy kiss. It’s not so much heated as just intense, a confirmation that he really did enjoy that. Nice as it is, though, Chuck has to break it off or someone’s going to end up having to send out a search party for them.

But that doesn’t stop her savouring it for a little while longer, only reluctantly stepping back. ‘C’mon, we’d better go.'

‘Alright, have it your way.’ Sighing, Herc lets her go, regaining his equilibrium unfairly fast. Still, he gives her ass one last pat for the road. ‘Better to save your energy for tonight anyway.'

Which doesn’t do anything to help her feel less horny. Either way, that doesn’t stop her following him, dusting off her knees and taking one last glance around the room. The place looks exactly as it did when they first arrived, although maybe not so much under a blacklight. Seems crazy how much has changed in the space of just a few days.

Max is waiting for them outside, happily scrambling his way up onto the seat when she opens the door for him. He at least doesn’t seem to particularly notice the shift in their relationship, even if there has been some sulking over the fact that he’s been shut out of the bedroom after that one incursion. Unfortunately, her explanation that it’s for his own good hadn’t really flown with the bulldog, and Herc had just found it amusing.

Having taken a moment to check that everything’s locked up one last time, he gets behind the wheel and shoots her a look. ‘All set?'

Hoping to deflect from the fact that she feels anything but ready to leave, Chuck smirks. ‘So long as you’ve remembered the condoms.'

-

Funnily enough, the drive back is worse than the one out, with Chuck getting progressively edgier the closer the Dome gets. Because even though this is where she’s supposed to be she can’t help feeling that all anyone will have to do is take one look at her, at him, and they’ll know. It’d be bad enough if there _weren't_ still several shades of incriminating marks over her neck that her collar’s only doing a passable job of covering up. At least before she hadn't really worried about anyone other than him picking up on anything, whereas now…

By the time the engine finally cuts out, destination reached, she can’t pretend that her anxious fidgeting isn’t happening. There’s too much at stake if she messes this up. And she’s terrified. Far qorse than she’s ever felt sizing up a Kaiju. Because what if the reality of this situation she’s gotten him into turns out to be too much for him?

On cue, his hand rubs her shoulder, soothing, his voice low. ‘Breathe, sweetheart.'

Instinctively, Chuck shakes her head, trying to ignore the fact that the rest of her’s trembling too. ‘I’m not worth this.'

‘Hey, no, you can’t think like that.’ Herc tips her chin up, getting her to look at him so that he knows his words are being absorbed. ‘So long as we act normal nobody’ll be any the wiser.'

How can he be so confident? So much could go wrong; even ignoring the Dome, and the fact that it’s full of people who could all too easily pick up on something, there’s the media. The fact is that they’re the pilots of the most advanced Jaeger in the world and that means scrutiny. Not to mention that some people out there already suspect it anyway.

‘But what if I screw this up?’ Her voice cracks, betraying exactly how deep this fear runs. And it’s awful, how weak she is, but that thought’s just too terrible. _Don’t cry, for god’s sake, don’t cry._

Without hesitation he slides closer, pulling her into his arms. Which could be mistaken for being entirely parental, couldn’t it? ‘You won’t.'

She wants to believe that, so very badly, but all the same she doesn't trust herself. Not exactly making the best case to keep him invested in this either, getting all pathetic and clingy before they've even left the truck. _Shit._ That thought’s enough to help her rein in the shakes, as well as the comforting pressure of his hand rubbing her back and the grounding smell of him.

'Okay, sorry.'

‘No need to apologise.' Herc pulls back, a little reluctantly, looking her in the eye with a final reassuring squeeze. 'Just try not to overthink this.'

That's easier said than done and they both know it. But Chuck nods anyway, because she's a Ranger for fuck's sake. She needs to get a hold of herself. Really it's not all that different from before, just now she gets the benefit of all the things that they can do together behind closed doors. So really, it's better. Much better.

At least the garage is pretty empty right now, meaning there's no other witnesses to her little meltdown. And it saves her from having to protest when he briefly presses their lips together. One last reassurance before he turns away and gets out, Max following at his heels.

Here goes nothing then.

Her feet hit the concrete and the world doesn't end. Even if she was half-expecting Bauer to come popping out of the shadows and court martial the pair of them on the spot. Though, on second thought, he probably wouldn't blame her dad and would quite happily pin the whole thing on her instead. Which she could honestly live with if it came down to it.

The lift takes an age to turn up, mostly because higher levels seem to keep hijacking it before it can get this far down. She’d be tempted to take the stairs but it’s a long way up and she’s not quite in the mood for that burn. Not yet. Bouncing on the balls of her feet instead, she pointedly doesn't look at him. Best to get back into the habit of not staring right away. Because if she looks at him she's either going to do something stupid or burst into a fresh fit of nerves.

Still, Chuck's not sure whether she's relieved or disappointed when the set of doors finally slides open to reveal a decidedly not empty lift. A couple of K-Science girls get off, giving them only a cursory look, one rocking a lab coat like that’s a normal thing to be heading out in. Leaving just the one extra passenger waiting to go up.

'Ah, the dream team returns!' Nico beams, the LOCCENT controller far from the worst person to run into. ‘Enjoy yourselves?'

She can't resist shooting a look at her dad, the way they eye each other surely a giveaway, and she wills herself not to look embarrassed. Because yeah, they'd definitely enjoyed themselves, just not in the way the question's intended.

'We did, thanks.’ Herc’s smile is audible, and she swears he’s not even trying to be subtle. 'It was just what I needed.'

'Glad to hear it, we want you in the best form possible.' It sounds like he genuinely means that, rather than just reading out the standard PPDC line like certain other people she could name. And then Nico turns to her with a playful sort of nudge; 'Hope it wasn't too boring for you out in the sticks.'

Crouching down to give Max a pet, just to keep herself from looking in a certain telltale direction and to cover up any awkwardness, Chuck shrugs. 'I managed to keep myself occupied.'

Apparently oblivious, the controller keeps on smiling. 'Well, we'll probably get you to take Striker out for a spin tomorrow, get you right back into the swing of things.'

That sounds like an amazing idea, because she could really do with stretching her legs again. Even if the thought of Drifting gives her a thrill that's a mix of excitement and nerves. At least nobody outside of the Conn-Pod will know what's passing between them, so long as it doesn't end up triggering off any particular alarms from their vitals. Because, yeah, this time neither of them's going to be having to hold back on their thoughts about each other. Focusing could be hard, to say the least.

After a bit of a catch-up on what's happened in the Dome - short answer, not really all that much - the lift reaches their floor and Nico waves them off. Chuck can’t quite tell if he’s really heading all the way from the basement to the roof or if the controller’s just hanging out in there for fun. Could easily be either.

Although she makes a point of not waiting for him, happy to be out of that confined space, Herc still catches her up without much effort. He bumps her shoulder, casual. ‘See, easy.'

They made it through one short conversation, that's hardly a conclusive triumph. ‘Be easier if you'd stop smirking.'

'Sorry.' It’s obvious that he’s still doing it without her having to check, but she can hardly be angry at him for being happy about this. Even if she wishes she wasn’t turning out to be the cautious one around here.

Chuck makes it to the door first, slipping inside fast and leaving it open for him. As the light flicks back on it gives her this weird clash of emotions, because it’s another unpleasant dose of reality and she shouldn’t have let herself get distracted. There’s still so much to prove and more Kaiju to kill, after all.

And _fuck_ , those damn bunk beds.

The same thought seems to cross his mind, though the fact that she’s openly glaring at the offending piece of furniture probably helps. ‘It’s a good thing you don’t mind being cosy.'

‘Oh, shut up.’ So what if she likes cuddling up with him? There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just as well she knows that he doesn’t mind it or else she might've been inclined to take a hint.

He drops his bag over by the lockers, no point unpacking yet, but the door's still open - Max having fallen back in search of admirers - so Herc doesn't make any move to close the distance between them. This time. 'C'mon, lunch.'

Damn it, maybe she should've dragged things out for longer after all. Another half hour would’ve been enough. Because it’s clear that she can’t get away with ducking this, even more so when her treacherous stomach chooses just that moment to growl so that there’s no way he’ll buy any protests that she isn’t hungry.

Besides, experience does teach that most people in the mess don’t bother that much with even passing scrutiny. None of this is a big deal, she just has to keep telling herself that until she starts to really believe it. 'Whatever.'

'Don't pretend you aren't happy not to be putting up with my cooking anymore.'

It really wasn't bad, especially considering that he hadn't exactly had all that much need to cook for himself over the years. Honestly, she’d rather have his than deal with the mess and all its noise, even if the kitchen staff haven’t ever served anything burnt. Course, she doesn’t want to say that, not if she’s meant to be getting back into the not-sappy, totally-not-in-love-with-him mindset.

Then again… Glancing back over her shoulder once she’s safely out of reach, Chuck decides to just try rolling with it. ‘Nah, I can just think of something I’d rather be eating.’

That seems to make Herc reconsider, but he’s just going to have to save it for later, isn't he? He’s the one who wanted to go to lunch, after all. Besides, it only serves him right, if he wants to be a tease then it’s only fair if she responds in kind. Just maybe not when there’s anyone else around to witness her amateur attempts at flirting. And maybe when she’s far enough away to avoid any immediate retaliation.

-

As expected, Max goes bounding straight off the second they reach the mess, smelling food and wanting in on that. While everyone’s pretty much used to him and his begging for scraps now he still provides a good distraction, turning heads away from them. That lets her breathe easier, even if it turns into a sigh when the dog all-too-quickly finds his first victim. Such a food slut.

Autopilot has her heading straight towards their usual spot, because even after a few days away people still seem to know to steer clear of it. But that plan gets promptly scuppered when Kaia whistles, unmissable even over the background hum of the crowded room. Vulcan’s lead pilot beckons and it’d be too rude to ignore her, despite Chuck having hoped to stay under the radar for just a bit longer.

The Kiwi barely gives them a chance to sit down before she launches into it; ‘Done slacking off?'

While it’s obviously not meant seriously that doesn’t stop Lucas kicking his co-pilot under the table for it. He prefers a more tactful approach, mild as ever. ‘Refreshed?'

Hopefully she’ll only have to hear variations on this question a few more times today. At least this time around there’s no synchronised look, because now Chuck can simply choose to become very interested in her tray instead. Of course it’s the natural conversation opener, like asking about the weather, but it just feels too close to knowing for her liking.

Fortunately Herc doesn’t have the same problem, much more practiced at fielding questions without giving anything away. ‘I’d say so.’

Keeping her head down turns out to not be the best of strategies, though, because it only encourages the Kiwi to try harder to get a proper response out of her. Which is never a good thing.

‘So... missing your boyfriend?'

From the sounds of it that earns her another kick from Lucas, and she’d be tempted to add one of her own if the woman was in easy range. Because shit, that’s never going to go away, is it? Not until Jack gets an _actual_ girlfriend. Which hey, maybe she should find someone to set him up with if it’d stop people insisting on this. Seeing as it’s not like she can just explain the whole truth.

Having no better outlet, Chuck levels an unimpressed glare at the other Ranger instead, wanting to get the message across loud and clear. Even if nothing short of actually beating it through that thick skull seems like it’s going to work. ‘Not. My. Boyfriend.'

‘And the sky isn’t blue.’ Case in point, her annoyance doesn't even make Kaia waver. 'There’s no shame in admitting it, you know.'

Possibly picking up on her tension, Lucas shakes his head, clearly long-suffering. ‘Ignore her.'

Not exactly his best piece of advice, considering that the Kiwi is the sort that can’t leave well enough alone, not when she’s getting a reaction. Wishing violent things on whoever the hell got this stupid idea started in the first place, Chuck stabs at her food and grumbles; ‘Nothing to admit.'

It’s all just an annoying reminder of how little her word still counts for sometimes. Though she has to admit that it might be good to have some misdirection going. Especially given the way she fails not to jump when a hand slides onto her leg. So much for subtle.

Before Chuck can stop herself she’s glanced at him but Herc’s doing a good job of pretending that his attention is elsewhere, even if the way he squeezes tighter tells her otherwise. Is that for comfort or something else? She can’t quite tell.

Still laser-focused on her subject, to the apparent exclusion of her surroundings, Kaia can't quite let it go just yet. ‘Careful, you keep denying it like this you’ll drive the poor boy off.'

‘If only.’ Herc mutters it almost low enough to make her think she's imagining it, but not quite.

Damn. Chuck frowns hard at him but he's still not looking back. Was he _jealous?_ The set of his jaw and that possessive hand still on her thigh would certainly suggest so. And even if that might be just a bit of a turn on that doesn’t change the fact that they’re going to have to have a talk about this. He hadn't seriously bought into that crazy rumour, had he? It would explain the intensity of his dislike for the tech, aside from the way Jack keeps needling him. 

Maybe if she could just get to the bottom of what her friend’s problem is she might finally be able to get the two of them to cut it out.

Miraculously that’s enough to make the Kiwi give it up, for now, even if there’s still that amused expression plastered across her face. Sometimes it’s really hard not to dislike the other Ranger, although at least she seems to take just as much fun from poking at everyone else.

Rather than letting them all have some peace, though, Kaia simply moves right on to a fresh line of thought. ‘Did you get a chance to watch the match?'

Judging from the way she asks it the All Blacks must’ve won, again. Otherwise she'd be in a much less perky mood, and would probably be pestering anyone who had the misfortune to come from the same country as the opposing team. That same sort of national pride is, of course, why Vulcan’s techs are all stuck in black, despite the fact that the Jaeger itself is very much Australian in origin.

‘Can’t say we did.'

‘Then what did you even _do_ out there?'

_Each other._ Well, they had managed to do more than just that, obviously, but it had still been a decidedly un-platonic couple of days. Not that it’s really anything more than a rhetorical question, and the details are nobody’s damn business anyway. Even if they weren’t so compromising.

Rather than rising to that like she would’ve, Herc sticks to the more diplomatic approach. ‘There're more important things-'

‘Nonsense!' Another fork nearly takes flight across the mess, and it's seriously a miracle nobody's gotten hurt yet. 'Friendly competition is what makes the world go around.'

'You'd be singing a different tune if your lot didn't win so much.' Having somehow managed to sneak over, Winchester naturally inserts herself right into the conversation. As usual. And as damn pristine as ever too.

It's probably a good thing Herc instantly stops touching her or else he wouldn't be able to miss the way she's tensed up. As much as Chuck’s got this abrupt urge to pounce on her dad - because he is _hers_ \- she knows that’d be an awful idea. Beyond awful, even. But shit, she doesn't need the reminder of how much better he could do lurking around like this. Especially not if said reminder keeps looking at him like that.

Winchester doesn't hestiate to make herself right at home, attention blatantly focused on him. 'All good?'

There's something almost too familiar in the way that question's asked. And something sickeningly open in the way he nods. 'Couldn't be better.'

Yeah right. Chuck can think of about a hundred ways things could be better right now. Starting with the absence of a certain head tech.

But this is just things going back to normal, isn’t it? Normal is how they keep this from getting out. And normal means sitting back and letting Winchester flirt with him. Still, that doesn’t mean she has to _like_ it. Maybe it's just insecurity, maybe she's reading too much into things, but that doesn't stop it hurting. Which is pathetic and that just annoys her even more.

Shit, she wishes she had someone to vent to right now. But Jack’s still in Perth and it’d be a miracle to get Mako on the phone at such short notice. While Max could probably do with a run, seeing as he’d kind of missed out earlier, he’s still on his round of the mess. And she's almost out of food to violently stab at. Brilliant.

‘Did you get much mist? It makes for some beautiful sunrises over the mountains.'

It takes a few seconds for her to realise that the question's specifically directed at her. Lucas patiently waits for an answer, seeming to understand that she could do with a distraction. Unlike his co-pilot, who’s still too busy making a show of fuming over the insult to her national pride to notice anything else.

Though she’ll never say as much, Chuck’s grateful for the effort. Even if it does mean that at least one person has picked up on the fact that she’s less than happy with the cosy little reunion that’s unfolding next to her. Hopefully the other Ranger writes it off as platonic annoyance rather than chalking it up to her having a bit of an unhealthy fixation on her dad.

’Not really.’ It’s a little stilted, because the weather isn’t what stuck in her memory, and she can’t stop her attention wandering back to the other conversation.

‘Well, you know I’m open for advice any time.’ Winchester stops short of reaching out and rubbing his arm but it’s a near thing.

‘Appreciate it.’ There’s more to it than that, something unspoken or just already communicated in the way he nods.

Advice about _what_ exactly? She doesn't like the sound of that, not one bit. It feels like they're having something of a heart-to-heart and that makes her seriously uneasy. It's hard to ignore her growing urge to get his attention back, especially when this friendliness of his isn't doing anything to discourage the woman. There's polite friendliness and then there's this.

Worse, it's more relaxed than Herc can ever really afford to be with her, isn’t it? At least when there’s anyone else around. She can never be more than a dirty secret, no matter what they are to each other behind closed doors. And there’s not really any comparison, is there?

Seemingly unable to understand the basic body language for _fuck off_ , Winchester decides that it’s not enough to just intrude on her dad but her thoughts as well. With _that_ question, no less. ‘And how are you doing?'

‘ _Fine_.’

Know what, screw this. Chuck doesn't have time to play nice, it's been four days, she has better things to do.

Not bothering to disguise her mood, she abruptly slides to her feet. Better to walk away now, remove herself from the situation, before she does something they'll all regret. Though, yeah, it's as much to do with wanting to make her feelings known and interrupting their happy little chat as it is about being sensible and in control of her emotions. But like hell is she going to admit that.

While she wants to get a reaction the way Herc frowns at her only makes her feel worse. Because clearly he thinks she's the one being unreasonable here. ‘Hey-'

Something inside her snaps, blotting out everything outside of the sting of his disappointment and the ugly fact that he’s not on her side right now. ‘I don’t need your permission to go; I’m not your goddamn shadow!'

Which is completely the wrong thing to say, she knows that even without the hurt look it earns her. But right now she's too pissed off to care. Hell, maybe if she’s difficult in public that’ll keep anyone from catching on. So long as she doesn’t end up driving him away in the process, that is. Because making things more unpleasant for her dad is totally not going to remind him that there’s much better options out there. Or sitting right next to him, as the case may be.

He doesn’t try to stop her again, even if Chuck feels his eyes burning her back as she beats her hasty retreat. Shit, she’ll be lucky if he still wants to follow up on that promise later.

'What did I say?' The confusion is audible in Winchester's voice, as if she's completely innocent in all this.

Chuck doesn't hear his reply, doesn't want to, so she clenches her fists tighter and heads straight for the stairs. At least walking away is better than letting things turn physical. So really it could’ve been worse. Though she doubts that’s a point that Herc’s going to appreciate. And didn’t she tell him she was going to screw this up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear...
> 
> Thanks for dropping by, awesome people. :)


	35. Solid Foundations

‘That was rude.’

Certainly took him long enough to come find her. Far from having cooled off, being left alone with her thoughts for this long has only made Chuck more pissed off. At Winchester. At him. At herself. Because she should be bigger than this, she _knows_ that. But all that shit about breathing deep and feeling the air in her lungs and relaxing is all too easy to push to the back of her mind. It was only ever really the physical side of the anger management that stuck, after all.

Resisting the urge to look at him, or even acknowledge his presence, she just throws another punch into the bag. Venting through aggression always was easier, and this way she doesn’t get in trouble for hitting a key member of Striker’s support team. All she wants to do is get these feelings _out_ and just pretend that little scene just hadn’t happened.

Not getting the message, or simply choosing to ignore it, Herc comes closer. Planting himself right in her line of sight, he makes his disappointment perfectly clear. ‘All she did was ask you a simple question.'

That’s so far off the mark Chuck can’t contain a bitter laugh. ‘Yeah, she wasn’t doing _anything_ else.'

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ His tone turns harsher, close to a snap, and it’s so obvious that she’s screwed this up.

Trying to cover up the way that made her flinch, or how the unpleasant feeling in her stomach is getting worse the more obvious it is that he’s taking the other side in this, she turns back to the punching bag. Walls up, this isn't worth it. ‘Forget it.'

All too easily he intercepts the next punch, getting hold of her arm and tugging so that she faces him instead. ‘I want to know where this attitude’s coming from.'

All that good feeling from this morning is gone, like it's a different world. Coming back was a mistake. Or maybe it’s that going away in the first place was. Either way, she’s not sure how to make this fit, normal life in the Shatterdome and their different relationship in private, while keeping things safely separate. Chuck just doesn’t know and she’s scared that the last few days will turn out to be nothing more than another fleeting fantasy.

Yanking her arm back, hating the way her body is still reacting to his touch right now, she bristles. _Take a goddamn guess._ ‘I get it, I’m being inconvenient.'

Maybe he doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t change the fact that he _should_ ; he should be able to put two and two together. And maybe Chuck’s not being all that rational, but shit she’s just so damn upset.

It’s clear that Herc’s getting increasingly frustrated with this, but he’s doing a much better job of trying to stay on top of it. Because he’s just better. ‘No, you’re being unreasonable.'

Really, she doesn’t want to make him unhappy. Much as her malicious anger might want to make him feel just as bad as being shut out like that made her feel. ‘Fine, unreasonable. I’m sorry.'

Possibly not the most sincere-sounding apology she’s ever made, but still far from the least. Backing down, she takes the long route across the mats - staying out of easy reach - to grab her stuff and leave. That’s always the best way to close a subject, after all, isn’t it? She knows she needs more time to cool down, but it’s turning from anger into smothering frustration and there’s much better places to deal with that. Places where she’s alone.

Rather than letting her walk away again, now that she wants him to, Herc quickly moves to close the gap she’s trying to establish. ‘I’m not the only one you should be apologising to.’

A lot of choice words cross her mind in the moment, but in the end she doesn’t have the energy to do more than sigh; ‘Whatever.'

That’s not the answer he wanted to hear, apparently, judging by the way his hand closes on her wrist again, pulling her to a stop. Because apparently the bigger problem was her _daring_ to offend that damn head tech, and that gives her a whole new boost of fury.

Whatever else he was going to follow that up with, she doesn’t give him the chance. Twisting viciously to break the hold, Chuck shifts her weight and goes straight for the takedown. It catches him off guard, but only for a moment before he adapts. Herc’s too experienced not to, even without the handicap of their compatibility working against her. So while she manages to throw his balance she doesn’t get away with it, legs getting taken out from under her and bringing her to the floor as well.

The ensuing grapple is fierce but brief, neither of them wanting to drag it out. All she wants is to give herself a chance to get away while he’s determined to stop her going anywhere. But as soon as he got her down on the floor with him Chuck had lost because, even though she ends up on top this time, there’s no way she can just get up and walk away without him pulling her right back down. Especially when he’s managed to get a leg hooked around her; only to keep her trapped, not for any pleasant reasons.

And why is this all going so damn wrong?

‘C’mon, talk to me.’ Even though Herc’s not entirely in the position to be making the demands he can probably tell that she’s not exactly about to start talking on her own.

As the fight drains out of her, replaced by the cold burn of shame, she’s busy not meeting his eyes. He deserves an explanation, doesn’t he? If she’s not going to completely push him away barely a few hours after arriving back here.

But that doesn’t mean she wants to spell it all out easily, gritting her teeth and shaking her head. ‘I just don’t like having to sit there and watch that.'

‘Watch what?’ It’s more gentle than before, coaxing, curious, and she doubts that’s just to do with the way she's got his back pressed to the floor.

His obliviousness only makes her growl in frustration, though. ‘For fuck’s sake, Dad, she was _all over_ you.'

'Oh.’ Finally, it seems to dawn on him. Although the actual realisation turns out to be rather different to what she was expecting, because he just sounds kind of amused. ‘ _That’s_ what this is about?'

Seriously? Being laughed at wasn’t what she’d hoped for and it hurts even worse than the rest of this mess did. It’s like her being upset about this is nothing. And it doesn’t matter that he’s not likely to just stay down, Chuck gives him a hard shove and makes a break for it. How can he belittle her feelings like this?

Of course, all that attempt at escape gets her is the loss of her advantage. Rather than trying to return the favour and pin her flat, though, Herc just pulls her back down and gets his arms wrapped around her in something far too close to a hug. Her vain efforts to struggle free only make him tighten his hold, as if he didn’t just dismiss her like that and as if they aren’t kind of in a public place right now.

‘Let _go_.'

Any trace of mockery is gone now, replaced by an urgent earnestness as he aims to calm her down again. ‘Shh, sweetheart, Olivia isn’t interested in me.'

Whether it’s true or not, he certainly seems to believe it when he says that. It could just be that he’s blind to the way Winchester acts around him. Or, just maybe, that was at least a bit of a projection on Chuck’s part. Was she overreacting? He seems so sure of it, like the idea of the head tech making the moves on him is the craziest thing in the world.

‘Could’ve fooled me.’ And she knows she’s not the only one who thinks it. Even if the Shatterdome rumour mill doesn’t always get it right - case in point, her and Jack - that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s always wrong.

‘She’s really not, trust me.’ A reassuring hand strokes along her spine, working away at the anger and the worry and the fear. ‘And even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. There’s only one person I want to be with, you should know that.'

Maybe, but for how long? Chuck is quite painfully aware of the fact that she’s hardly doing a good job of being loveable here. ‘But I’m-'

‘Hey, none of that.’ Herc doesn’t even wait to find out quite what fault she was going to point out, as if there isn’t a single thing she could say right now that would be valid. ‘Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you.'

Truly, she wants to believe that and deep down, beneath the self-doubt, she knows that he would never just drop her. He has too much compassion to do something like that, too much honour. Burrowing closer, giving in, she belatedly returns the hug. It’s not like she really wanted to fight in the first place. So if he says that she doesn’t have to worry about the head tech then maybe she can give her a second chance. Just so long as the woman doesn’t insist on asking such fucking stupid questions.

Because there’s definitely nobody else in the gym right now she feels bold enough to risk pressing a soft kiss against his neck. Hoping that this means he’s forgiven her. ‘I didn’t mean that, what I said.'

‘And I should’ve realised you were getting upset sooner. So we'll call it even, okay?'

Chuck doesn’t hesitate to nod, feeling a lot more content in spite of herself. But another thought runs through her mind and she can’t resist it, keeping her voice to a whisper just in case. ‘No spanking then?'

That chases away the last lingering traces of tension, exactly as she'd hoped. Apparently it’s not an idea she’s been alone in entertaining, judging by the rather heated look he gives her. ‘We’ll see.'

-

Suiting up feels awkward all over again, just in a different way this time. Because her keen awareness of Herc's presence has turned from frustrating to just plain distracting. It’s probably just the heightened sense of anticipation that has Chuck shooting such regular glances in his direction. After all, she has plenty of other opportunities to appreciate him these days. But she can’t entirely help it, especially not when she keeps catching him looking back.

Shit, they really aren’t all that good at being subtle. But it’s hard to act all detached when she knows that this Drift is going to be different. Her skin prickles with a mixture of excitement and nerves, because she’s not sure whether she’s entirely ready for how intense this could turn out to be. It’s one thing saying these things to each other, it’s another thing entirely to actually _feel_ them.

One of the techs - Emily something? - fits her chest plate into place and there’s this telltale moment of hesitation before she steps back. No points for guessing what someone just noticed, not with the judgemental sort of look the tech gives her. Like it's anyone's business what she does off duty.

Chuck narrows her eyes, daring the tech to express her no doubt unflattering opinion, but that’s enough to scare the older girl off. She’s never exactly bothered to figure out the gossip chain around here, but now she has a pretty good idea that _something’s_ going to be doing the rounds later. Hopefully nothing close to the truth. It’s enough to keep her from looking at Herc again, though, at least until he leads the way into the Conn-Pod and she has to.

There’s something almost therapeutic in the sound of the door sealing them in, shutting out the rest of the world for just a little while. Inside Striker nothing can touch them. In here it's safe, in a manner of speaking at least. She can breathe easy, for now.

Even though the comms are on, systems already gearing up, there’s no harm in her asking; ‘Ready for this?'

It’s an innocent enough question, for anyone who doesn't know what's going on between them. And, even if it might be a bit late, it’s worth checking. They’ve spent enough time keeping these walls up, she could keep them up a little longer, if that’s what he wanted.

But Herc’s clearly a lot more confident about this, he does have more experience with sharing his thoughts after all. Still, he flicks a switch, muting the feed for a second, to deliver a soft warning. ‘Job first, remember.'

Obviously. Trying to pilot Striker while horny isn’t the best idea. In fact, it’d probably be a surefire way of getting them both in serious trouble. But yeah, maybe when they’ve got the technical stuff out of the way, before they break the handshake, there’ll be a chance to get a bit of it out there. That way they might have a chance of following through on some of it.

Still, she smirks back at him, more than a little bit keen to find out just how much of a difference the Drift hangover will translate into sex. Even if he's not had that same thought he soon will do.

Of course, LOCCENT is still right there, watching, and Nico chimes up as soon as the comms come back on. ’Still remember where everything is?'

Chuck can't help rolling her eyes at that. From almost anyone else that could’ve been a serious question. 'Nope, who are you again?'

'Real funny, you are.’

'You started it.'

These days it's all pretty routine, this, the banter as they run through the final set-up the result of genuine confidence rather than bravado like it once was. Doesn't mean that she takes any of it for granted, though. Even if it’s now so familiar that doesn't make it any less exhilarating, the rush of Striker coming back to life. It always makes her feel as if she could take on anything. And that's a feeling she could really do with today.

'Initialising neural handshake.'

There’s still something about it - the moment that the singular turns back into the plural - that will never stop being amazing. Sometimes being in her own head is the worst, but this is something else. The kick of it still takes her breath away, for a second at least, not that she’d admit it to anyone. But this time that’s not the only thing that gives her pause.

_The light's soft, her body warm against him, so peaceful and perfect. Can't tell him off for staring right now and god, he's fallen so hard._

Instinctively, she pulls back from it, resistant in spite of the undeniable sense of affection - love - that resonates in the fleeting memory. _Because_ of it.

Chuck’s gotten too used to walling things up, to pushing certain thoughts as far out of his reach as possible, that it’s second nature now. She can’t help worrying that once her guard comes down just the slightest bit it might all come spilling out, the stuff that she still wants to keep to herself. Letting go of things isn't something she's too good at.

More than that, she’s scared of the intensity of it. Especially when they’re hooked up to Striker. She doesn’t want to give anything away, and it’s unsurprisingly hard to keep up a neutral facade when things like that are coming through the connection.

But that’s not something that’s hidden from Herc, not when it makes the connection waver, her hesitation holding them back. There isn’t any sense of frustration, just reassurance, as he gives her a soft probe. Not trying to force anything out of her but gently encouraging her to open up.

_Don’t be scared. Trust me._

Really it would be unfair not to reciprocate, seeing as he’s letting her in on his feelings. That and she still feels just a little bit bad for that scene she’d caused yesterday. So, Chuck tunes out the mundane process of leaving the Dome and turns to her mental block. It’s hard, figuring out where to even start, but also so simple. It’s like tugging at a loose thread, once she makes that first pull the rest seems to come apart without effort.

_After all these years there he is, mere feet away, and damn if he doesn’t look so very good. It’s as if she never really realised just how much she missed him until right now._

_He gets up, stretching, her eyes following his every move, and of course his shirt rides up. Shit. Might as well just take it straight off, for all the good it’s doing._

_It’s honestly pretty perfect out here, soaking up the sun and his company, no real fuss, relaxed. Even if she might not deserve it._

He doesn’t miss that little slip, of course, instantly pushing back a gentle rebuke. _Pulling off the helmet, she turns to him, practically glowing. He’d been afraid she’d never smile like that for him again._

There’s something a bit disorientating about this, even more so than any other fleeting memories of herself that she’s caught, because it’s just so... different. It’s so at odds with the way she sees herself. But it’s a lot harder to doubt it when she can feel the thoughts as clearly as if they were her own.

‘Alright, you two, don’t get into any trouble out there.’ Nico doesn’t realise it, but his words are a remarkably well-timed reminder.

Although she’s got this itch to push a bit deeper and see more that’s really not a good idea. Maybe if they were in the simulator or just hooked up to the Pons then there wouldn’t be any harm in chasing more of these feelings. But they really need to stay on good behaviour out here, even if it is just a walk around rather than a live drop.

‘We’ll do our best not to.’ It’s easy enough for Herc to say that, he’s not got so much temptation as she has. ‘Right?’

‘Right.’ Sure, there’s plenty of other things to focus on right now anyway. Even without the Drift everything coming in from Striker’s sensors would be enough to keep her mind occupied. Boring as just walking around on the coastline is.

Though the weather’s honestly pretty shit today, it’d turned overnight, a sign that the summer’s pretty much over. Instead of a sharp thunderstorm, though, it’s one of those days where there just seems to be rain almost nonstop. Not heavy, but enough to be annoying. Despite the fact that sensations like that don’t carry through the circuitry suit, not enough pressure, her skin still prickles with the imagined beat of the raindrops.

Even though the waters are a bit choppier it doesn’t make things all that difficult, it just gives her more of an excuse to focus on their steps. All in all it’s pretty uneventful, just a couple of circuits to confirm that all of Striker’s systems are still running as they should be. It’s been a good few weeks since the last Kaiju hit land, after all, and they need to be ready for the next one.

For the most part, Chuck manages to avoid thinking too much, maintaining the silence of the Drift, and watching a couple of gulls wheeling around on an updraft. Still, much as she keeps her thoughts away from the obvious, that doesn't change the fact that they're both spending a lot less energy on filtering their thoughts. So, good as they're both being, little things keep slipping through every now and then.

Like how she listens to him breathing to help her when she can’t sleep or how adorable he thinks she is when she’s blushing.

Not that she blushes now, even with the fresh warmth that seems to permeate their shared headspace now. Because she’s a Ranger. And there’s still this quiet discomfort in the pit of her stomach, because she’s not sure how he sees all this in her.

Everything goes smoothly, naturally, a bit of rain and a few gulls was hardly ever going to pose much of a problem. Judging by how little input they’d ended up getting from LOCCENT it might have even gone smooth enough to send the controller to sleep. Which is as much a blessing as a curse, not having that extra distraction. But once they’re on the way back to the bay, time almost up, she feels confident enough to ditch the good behaviour and try it.

_You wanna know what I’m thinking about?_

Even if they weren’t connected right now Herc could probably guess the answer pretty damn easily, just maybe not in the same sort of detail that seeing offers. But he’s more than happy enough to play along. _Of course._

Purposely pushing this sort of stuff into the Drift is a weird change, but it’s really as easy as breathing. Chuck doesn’t have to particularly choose, she's got enough fantasies that one springs to mind the moment she lets it.

_The hot spray of the shower, pressing him against the tiles and tracing her hands over every last inch of gorgeous skin. Kissing like it’s oxygen but she could so happily drown in him._

His reaction is instant, the burning desire that feeds back to her through the connection is so intense it almost throws her off balance. This could easily turn into an addictive sort of feedback loop, each of their urges building off the other’s. Especially when he doesn’t hesitate to respond in kind.

_Sinking slowly back into that tight heat, relishing the slide of skin on skin and the breathless moan she rewards him with, fingers digging into his back. So good and all_ his.

_Fuck_.

‘You alright in there?’ It’s probably a good thing that Nico interrupts them, again, because she’s not quite sure where they were going to stop. 'I'm seeing a bit of a heart rate spike.'

That’s an understatement. ‘Don’t worry about it. Stray thought.'

‘Uh-huh.’ Although he clearly doesn’t buy that there’s no telling quite what he thinks the real explanation is. ‘Well, everything’s looking good from here, so I’ll leave you to your thoughts.'

On the one hand, Chuck really doesn’t want to disconnect just yet. But then again, those thoughts have made her impatient to get him right back in her personal space. It’s like the post-Drift clinginess has already kicked in, because she feels seriously turned on right now. And, that isn't helped by the fact that she knows all too well that he's in a similar state of mind.

It takes rather longer than she would like to get out of the rig once the handshake’s broken. Even though practice means it only takes a few seconds. She’ll probably get in shit for the way she tosses her helmet aside, but that hardly matters. More important is the way they meet halfway, mouths meshing together, pulling each other as close as the Drivesuits allow. Hell, she would be more than happy to fuck right here.

The loud hiss of the pressure lock releasing is enough to snap her out of it, though, all too soon. Because getting caught redhanded would really be a mood killer. Somehow they manage to let go, which is a lot harder than it should be, and she misses him instantly. Still, it’s probably incriminating enough as it is, the way they’re both kind of short on breath.

Though she heads for the exit as soon as the first tech steps into the Conn-Pod Chuck glances back. Just to make sure her thought gets through loud and clear. _See you in the shower._

-

It's a long while before either of them are in any real state to leave their quarters again. Just as well there’s no need for a debrief today, because she’s not sure how either of them could’ve held off for that long. Good thing it was only a short jog back from the Drivesuit Room too, considering how the door had barely closed before they were on each other again.

Maybe it's a bit incriminating that she’s heading down to the laundry room now, but she needed to take her stuff anyway and she just doesn’t trust him not to be all smug about it. They’re going to have to figure something out about not ruining the sheets too much, or else it might start to look suspicious. And Chuck is _not_ going to do this every time, she can just imagine the shit people will start saying if it looks like she's the one always doing the laundry. She's got a damn reputation to try and maintain here.

Just to be safe she glares at the first person who looks at her funny. So what if she gets a reputation for being a bitch? That’s not the important thing here.

Fortunately the laundry room's empty, the benefit of having several spread throughout the living area. Still, that doesn’t stop her glancing over her shoulder when she pulls the sheet out, grimacing at the state of it. Maybe acting guilty would be what gives it away rather than any actual evidence on the sheet, but Chuck’s always been more on the paranoid side anyway. Once that’s dealt with, the wash cycle kicking in and getting to work cleaning away the incriminating stains, she breathes a bit easier.

Turning to the rest of the dirty laundry she lets her thoughts wander, easing the mundanity of the task. Post-Drift sex is definitely more intense. The ghost of the connection amplifies every sensation, almost too much. But he loves her and she could die happy if that was the last thing she ever felt. Not that she wants to, not when there’s so much still to live for. And maybe when she's done with this she might be quick enough to get back and curl up with him for a bit longer.

While her mind's occupied with better things, though, Chuck doesn't notice when she gains some company. Not until said company pounces on her back, making her nearly jump out of her skin even as reflex has her throwing them straight off.

‘Shit!’

Jack laughs, not at all bothered by the way he'd gotten thrown, even if he is rubbing his side from where he'd hit the machine. It’s really the least he should expect for sneaking up on her like that. ‘Nice to see you too, hot-shot.'

‘Don’t _do_ that.’ She was already nervous enough about seeing him again without him adding the element of surprise.

‘Sorry.’ He’s still grinning, which kind of undermines the sincerity of the apology, and if he were almost anyone else she wouldn’t stand for it. ‘It was too tempting.'

‘You asshole.’ It’s more fond than biting, even if she still isn’t impressed by his choice of greeting. ‘I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow?'

Although it’s a nonchalant shrug there’s something decidedly sheepish about his whole body language. ‘Well, you know, Perth’s kind of boring these days.'

That’s definitely not the whole answer, it was always her that wanted to leave rather than him. Jack has a lot more there than she ever did. And that’s enough to get Chuck worried. It might just be her, but he’s staring at the ceiling like he’s trying to build up the courage for something. Oh lord, he’d probably tried to burn Gran’s house down, hadn’t he?

‘And, well, I… wanted to ask...’ Finally, he looks at her again, _really_ looking at her, and his face does a weird twitching thing, expression morphing from nervous to something else entirely. ‘Where’s the body?'

‘What?’ Okay, she's definitely missed something here, instantly a lot more uneasy about this whole situation.

‘Seriously?’ Stepping right up into her personal space, an accusing finger poking an exposed mark, Jack sounds far more angry than she expects. ‘Your old man gives me evils for just _breathing_ in your direction. You really expect me to believe he hasn’t murdered whoever dared to do _this_ to you?'

Oh, shit. Brushing his hand away, Chuck steps back, only to bump straight into the washing machine. At least it seems like he’s jumped to the wrong conclusion. Even if she has no idea how to get out of this conversation, and damn it she seriously needs to figure out how to cover those up properly.

‘It’s not a big deal.'

‘Not a-’ He shakes his head, incredulous, refusing to let it go like she’d hoped he would. ‘How did you even manage to-'

The implication stings, because he just sounds so surprised, like the idea of anyone being interested in her like that is unbelievable. So good to know she's not the only one who thinks that after all. ‘Believe it or not, I _did_ manage. Not that it's any of your goddamn business.'

Because her success at walking away from conversations is really waning Jack naturally follows right after her, giving her the feeling that he’ll just trail along until she either manages to shut him on the other side of a door or gives him the answers he wants. Or at least ones that he’s satisfied with.

‘Woah, wait up, was it really that awful with your dad?’

She couldn't be honest, even if she felt like it right now. It’s not like she hasn’t hidden things from her friend before, but that only makes her feel worse about it. What she has now with Herc is good, having to hide it like this makes it seem more sordid than it really is. Chuck doesn’t want to be ashamed of what’s going on, but this constant need for secrecy might just end up making her feel that.

‘This has nothing to do with him.'

‘Other than the likely missing persons report.’ His attempt at humour doesn’t break the thick tension that’s descended. Not least because it’s clear that he’s not entirely joking, that same old hostility still as alive as ever.

'Drop it.'

For once in his life Jack doesn’t take the warning and keeps pushing. ‘I'm gone a few days and you hook up with some random guy? Where the hell did this come from?'

All this questioning is really not helping her mood. In the vain hopes of putting a final end to it, she stops dead in her tracks and snaps. ‘Why does it even matter?'

That makes him hesitate, though it could just be from the way she’s rounded on him rather than the question itself. ‘Because you deserve better than that.'

That takes some of the heat out of her temper, because of course he’s coming from a well-meaning place about this, really. It’s just… she hadn’t figured out a way of explaining this without giving too much away. Not letting on about what’s going on with her dad is more important than sparing Jack's feelings.

‘Seriously, I just want to know you’re okay.’ Refusing to give up, he edges tentatively closer, rightfully wary of any physical retaliation given the thin ice he’s treading on here. 'And-'

‘There you are!’

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

If it weren’t for the way that Winchester is clearly right looking at her, or the fact that there’s not a whole lot of other people in the corridor, Chuck would be sure it wasn’t her being addressed. She’s the last person the head tech should be looking for, much less sounding pleased about having found.

‘I was wondering if I could borrow you.’ Only belatedly does the woman seem to notice that there was already a conversation going on here. Or at least she acts like it, tacking on an unconvincing; 'As long as I’m not interrupting anything.'

On another day Chuck wouldn’t even consider agreeing. As it is, the woman sounds urgent about whatever it is, and while this could just be changing one awkward conversation for another she’s still unsure about just what Jack’s deal is today. When she looks back at her friend he’s already backing off, shaking his head.

Even though she’s not sure she likes the idea of having a private chat with the head tech, despite it all, she doesn’t have enough of an excuse to shrug her off. ‘Not if it’s important.'

‘It is.’ Winchester nods, putting on a pretty good poker face and giving nothing away. ‘My office, shall we?'

In all the months she’s been here, Chuck’s managed to avoid ever being alone with the head tech. There was never any point, nothing that either of them really had to say to each other, outside of technical discussions. And, of course, the occasional question over Herc’s whereabouts. So, although she follows the woman compliantly enough, it still feels awkward. Like bloody everything since she left their quarters.

Almost as if she knows about her tendency to slip away when people’s backs are turned, Winchester makes a point of holding the door open for her. If the woman feels at all uncomfortable then she doesn’t let on, simply gesturing to one of the chairs that clutter the room. It’s all very cluttered, the desk littered with schematics and about a dozen other things, and making it hard to see how any work ever gets done in here. In order to be diplomatic Chuck takes a seat, trying her best to ignore her growing sense of discomfort.

Pulling up a chair of her own, scrapping it obnoxiously along the floor, the head tech stares her down for a long moment. A moment so long it feels like she’s never going to say anything, just wait for her to crack. But, inevitably, the woman can’t stay quiet forever. ‘So, I know we've not gotten off on the best foot, but I figured that you could use some help.'

‘Help?’ She hopes it doesn’t come out quite as disdainful as it sounds in her head, because that’s not something she needs. Certainly not from her.

Completely unfazed by the less-than-enthusiastic reception she’s getting, Winchester smiles, knowingly. ‘Well, I think it’s probably in everyone’s best interests if you aren’t showing off those love bites of yours.'

For probably the second time today Chuck’s sure she must look like a rabbit caught in the headlights, because shit, has _everyone_ already noticed? Instinctively her hand goes to pull up her collar, which probably just makes her look more guilty, all things considered. ‘Uh, well, they’re already fading, so...'

‘ _Those_ ones are, sure, but what about next time, hmm?'

‘Who says there’s gonna be a next time?’ Much as she wants to sink through the floor right now, she has to at least try and push back against the insinuation. Whatever the head tech’s getting at she needs to shut it down.

Undeterred, Winchester shakes her head like she doesn't see any point in her protestations. ‘Well, better safe than sorry, don't you think? On the off chance there _is_ a next time. Or several.'

Then and there Chuck has the terrible sense that the woman knows. But surely if she did then they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. A good friend would probably be making sure the bad influence of a daughter got kicked to the kerb before anyone else could twig. For Herc's sake. Except she doesn’t seem at all put out by whatever she thinks is going on, more amused than anything.

Her lack of response naturally gets taken as a concession, the head tech promptly producing a wash bag from its hiding place under the desk and unzipping it. ‘Now, I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that you’ve never touched make-up, am I right?'

That’s a pointless question if ever there was one, something Chuck makes perfectly clear with her derisive snort. ‘Yeah, never.'

‘Then you’d better pay close attention, cover ups aren’t as simple as you might think.’ Pausing in riffling around for whatever it is that comes first Winchester fixes her with a challenging look. 'Unless you want to make like Nico and start wearing a bandana all the time, that is.'

Which isn’t the worst idea she’s ever heard, aside from how abundantly obvious it’d make it that she was trying to hide something. That said, after all the trouble she’s already had today it couldn’t hurt to just go along with it. And while this is probably going to be even more tedious than doing the laundry she’s not about to back down from a challenge. Even a ridiculous one like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, look at her building begrudging bridges. That's some good progress right there.
> 
> Edit: Sorry if the pacing in this one was off, on reflection it feels a little overcrowded and I really should've caught that sooner. Rest assured that I'm giving the next chapter more of a chance to breathe.
> 
> Thanks for dropping by, as always.


	36. No Smoke Without Fire

In the end it turns out that it actually is a lot harder than it looked, much to Chuck’s annoyance. But she is _not_ going to be defeated by something so stupid as this, and maybe now she understands a bit more why girls get a reputation for taking forever in the bathroom. She’s already been standing at the mirror, face set in a scowl, for a good few minutes when the door slides open. It’s been too easy to get used to leaving that unlocked already, on the off chance they ever want to join each other in the shower.

She makes the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, unable to miss Herc's amused look as he leans against the doorframe. Because of course he’s going to wait for her the one time she’d really rather he didn’t. This would be bad enough without an audience, much less one that’s smirking about it.

‘You don’t get to find this funny.’ Her glare darkens, before she decides that it’s better not to pay him any attention at all. This needs her full concentration. But that doesn’t stop her muttering; ‘It’s all your damn fault anyway.'

'I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it.’ He’s just lucky she’s so stupidly in love with him, or else there’s no way she’d ever let him get away with this.

‘Oh, shut up.’ It’s easier to grumble than to acknowledge that he’s right, not that he actually needs her to confirm that in the first place. Sooner or later she’s sure to become immune to this embarrassment, hopefully. At least she doesn’t blush and throw the whole stupid thing off.

Doing her best to pretend he isn’t there, Chuck tilts her head to check her handiwork in more light. It’s not perfect, annoyingly, but it’s also probably as good as it’s going to get without her having to start entirely over. And shit, she does _not_ want to spend any longer playing around with this. Honestly, maybe it would be better to convince him to knock it off instead. Seeing as at least _one_ of them needs to be careful here.

That’s not a thought that sticks in her mind for long, though. In the time it takes for her to give up and turn around Herc’s got behind her, keeping her backed up against the sink. Admittedly the bathroom’s not exactly big, so it’s not that impressive that he managed to get so close so quickly. And she’s pleased that she barely even jumps, they’re in each other’s personal space enough these days, after all.

Rather than doing anything interesting he just reaches up and tilts her chin, getting his own look at her rather piss-poor attempt at covering up. Apparently it passes muster, and his hand slides to the back of her neck instead. ‘Shame.'

‘Better than being caught.’ And if they take too much longer they’re going to miss breakfast. Which would probably be too obvious.

So she makes do with a quick peck and ducks out under his arm. Restraint’s an attractive thing, and she’d rather save her energy for later anyway. The Shatterdome waits for no one person, even if a certain Commander seems to think so.

Knowing better than to wait around and let him catch her up before she's at least got out the door Chuck wastes no time slipping out. It's not all that hard to keep up the facade of not being ludicrously soft on him, even if there's always that telltale edge of affection underneath it. Hopefully it's not too obvious; she's having to put an awful lot of stock in hope these days.

His hand brushes briefly against hers when he draws level, a calculated accident. For some reason Herc never seems to be quite as cautious about being affectionate in the open. As long as nobody looks guilty about it there's nothing to worry about, supposedly. Even so, she'd rather be on the safe side, pulling away just a little. Still close, just not _too_ close. Never know who could be watching, after all...

‘ _Good_ morning, girlfriend.’ Jack casually drops an arm around her shoulders, as if yesterday hadn’t even happened. Except for the way he seems to be almost aggressively cheery.

‘Morning.’ Still feeling just a little bad for the way their last conversation went, Chuck sighs rather than trying to shake him off too fast. While it’s doubtful that he’s really forgotten about it this quickly she’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and question it. The less questions in general the better.

‘So... I was thinking that we still need to catch up, and there’s a wonky valve that’s got your name on it...'

Sometimes it could be easy to wonder whether he's only using her as a way to get out of doing his job. She knows better, though, even if she does roll her eyes at him. ‘All of Striker has my name on it.'

‘Well, yeah, but I figured you need some good company for a change today.’ Now that’s definitely pointed, a hint of hostility stirring beneath the cheerfulness.

‘So you won’t be there then?’ Herc mutters it mildly, just loud enough to be heard, even as he pretends to be focusing somewhere else entirely.

’Speak for yourself, y-'

A well-placed elbow to the side is no less than Jack should expect, even if it does seem to hit that bruise from yesterday and make him wince. Apparently her hopes of getting the two of them to just cut it out were too much. Even if Chuck could get her dad to back off that still wouldn’t solve whatever Jack’s problem is. And she doesn’t really feel up to starting _that_ conversation just yet.

‘I’ll come find you. Later.’ Rather than leaving him room for argument she makes it clear that he should drop this now or else.

With one last glare in Herc’s direction Jack shrugs, retreating but not before landing a hard pat on her back. ‘You’d better, hot-stuff.'

Once the tech has disappeared round a corner the two of them share a look, although she thinks they probably have slightly differing opinions on the matter. At least that wasn’t quite as messy as she’d been half-afraid it would be. It’s kind of a miracle that they’ve never come to blows, really, considering just how much Jack seems to be itching for it sometimes. To think that he calls _her_ the hot-head.

This could so easily end up giving her a headache. ‘What is _wrong_ with him?'

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Even though they’re not a hundred percent alone right now Herc steps closer than strictly appropriate and lowers his voice. ‘He’s interested in you.'

And here comes that headache. That's probably the stupidest thing she’s ever heard, and she’s had to listen to some real shitheads in her time. ‘You've got to be kidding me.'

Lowered voices or not, they can’t talk about this out here. Not least because Chuck is afraid of quite what she might do if this proves to be as frustrating as she’s anticipating. They’re both bloody stubborn at the best of times and she gets the feeling that he’s not going to let her talk him out of this stupid idea of his.

Casting around, checking that they haven’t already managed to gain any eavesdroppers, she spots a storage room a few meters away. It’s hardly inconspicuous but it’ll have to do, because she is _not_ sitting through breakfast knowing that he’s thinking such rubbish. Fortunately Herc doesn’t try to argue with her grabbing him by the collar and dragging him along. Not quite the reason she was expecting to be pushing him into an empty room but this is far from a perfect world right now.

Resting the urge to do something a bit more satisfying, she stands back and crosses her arms. Don’t waste time, just sort this out and be done with it. ‘Not that the jealous thing isn’t hot, but you’re way off.'

‘Which is why he had a fit when he realised what you'd been getting up to, right?’ Similarly sure of himself, Herc leans back against the wall with an infuriating sort of smirk, and she knew it was a mistake to tell him about that.

Okay, so maybe that reaction had been a little disproportionate, she’d been too relieved that he hadn’t jumped to the right conclusion to really think about it right away. But that doesn’t mean that Jack has those sort of feelings for her. Yeah, he kind of flirts with her, but that’s just how their friendship goes. He only does it to get a reaction out of her, a habit that had evolved out of those early months of trying to get her to crack a proper smile. And having seen her like she was... there’s no way he would think about her like that.

No, that’s not the explanation and she definitely doesn’t want Herc thinking that. Things do _not_ need to get any more complicated than they already are. So Chuck squares her jaw and crosses her arms tighter. ‘He was just worried, he does that.'

‘Sure.’ Though it's only one word the sentiment still comes through loud and clear.

Of all the things… If nothing else this is definitely clearing up exactly why her dad had been set against him before Jack had even had a chance to be snippy. But he’s hardly an unbiased observer so she thinks she can be forgiven for not taking his word for it here.

Trying not to let the frustration build, she takes a slow breath. Shit, she really does take after him, doesn’t she? ‘I think I would’ve noticed if he was interested in me.'

That only makes his whole air of certainty worse, as if she's just proved his point. ‘And how long did it take for you to realise I was flirting with you?'

‘That’s different.’ Completely different. ‘I’ve known him for years, Dad. He’s… protective, yeah, but that’s just...’ _because he remembers the state I was in_ 'because he’s my friend.'

‘Which is why he can’t stand me.’ Naturally Herc doesn’t seem at all put out by the fact.

Of course nothing she says is going to convince him, but she has to at least try. Even if her patience for this nonsense is fast wearing thin. ‘Like you’re any better with him.'

‘Because he needs to learn when to back off.'

Chuck resolutely ignores the way that growl makes her want to wedge the door shut, push him right up against that wall and kiss some sense into him. Well, she doesn’t manage to stop herself stepping right up into his personal space, just because that’s the best way to make this point. To be sure she has his full attention. That’s all.

Which is the same reason she strokes a hand along his jawline. Making herself nice and clear. ‘Come on, you’ve got nothing to worry about.'

‘I know.’ Leaning closer, he narrows the space between them even further, breath ghosting across her skin and making her squirm.

And then he pulls away, still so much better at teasing but not giving in. Although he can’t quite resist a light smack to her ass on his way past, completely unrepentant. 'But I’m still right.'

It’s probably for the best, him leaving her high and dry like this, even if she doesn’t appreciate it. Disappearing into a cupboard together for however long is a really bad idea. The less flustered or guilty she looks when she comes back out the better. And Max does need feeding too.

How she is ever going to survive this for any length of time is still a mystery.

-

Things settle into a sort of normality again over the next few days, even if Chuck can’t help being just a bit twitchier and she gets the worrying sense that Jack is watching more closely than usual. If nothing else, though, that worry helps to keep her in check. Even if sometimes it seems like the more she tries to avoid touching Herc too much the more he compensates. It doesn’t matter what he says, she knows that he didn’t use to be _quite_ this handsy.

Still, she’s got a very different complaint as she lies back and tries to keep her eyes open. Even with Max snuggled against her side the bed feels too empty. Of course her dad’s allowed to be out late without her, she’s not _that_ suffocating, but Chuck still doesn’t feel entirely easy about falling asleep before he comes back. Just in case.

Normally it wouldn’t be quite so hard to wait but she’s been left to her own devices for most of the day and the fatigue is really hitting her. Maybe that last lap of the Dome was a bit too much, but Max had been happy to go for it and… well, she’s been slacking a little lately, hasn’t she? Can’t be letting herself go when the next Kaiju could be just around the corner.

Hmm, she should probably turn the light back up to full whack. That’d make it easier to stay awake...

Or the way that the door screeches, that does the job just as well. It's almost impossible to open those things without making noise, despite the best intentions of whoever's opening it.

Energy already recovered, Max deserts her in an instant. He always knows where his best chances of attention are. And although she's awake again now Chuck can't muster quite the same level of enthusiasm, if anything feeling more tired for that unplanned nap.

Stretching but making no move to get up, she tries and fails not to sound completely out of it. 'Whattimeisit?'

Wisely choosing not to make fun of her half-awake state, Herc eases the door shut the rest of the way. 'Around half ten.'

Still that early? No wonder she feels like shit, she could've only been out for a few minutes. Which makes it all the more annoying that she'd not been able to keep her eyes open for just a little bit longer. Grumbling, more to herself than anything, Chuck makes a vague attempt at sitting up, scrubbing at her eyes.

'Have fun?'

He hums, shrugging out of his vest, so it’s hard to tell if he’s being flippantly dismissive or just honest. ‘It was nothing special.'

Either way it doesn't really matter, she's just pleased he's here now. Even if maybe five minutes earlier might have saved her some measure of embarrassment. Just woken up is never a good look on her. Still, she can forget about that when he comes over and takes a seat. Especially when he doesn’t resist her grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

There’s still so much of a thrill in just being able to do this. In the intoxicating movement of his mouth against hers. In the way he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world. This is exactly what she was waiting for.

But even with the heat running through her veins Chuck can’t quite shake the lingering fatigue, fighting to stifle a yawn once they pull apart for air. At another time it might be mortifying, but right now she's got more important things on her mind. Sleep can wait another hour or so if they can make out instead.

Except then he goes and sits back with a huff of laughter. ‘You really managed to wear yourself out without me, didn’t you?'

Not liking the idea of admitting to the weakness, in spite of the way she's kind of melting into his touch, she settles for a lopsided shrug. Better if she can avoid any lectures, for the time being at least. 'A bit.'

‘Then I’d better let you sleep.'

That isn’t quite what she wants to hear, especially when Herc goes straight ahead and gets up. Maybe a lecture would’ve been better. Then she would’ve had the opportunity to just cut it off with some underhanded tactics. She knows he’ll be back, obviously, but she’s still kind of impatient when it comes to getting him into bed.

‘Fucking tease.'

‘Maybe you should save your energy next time.’ He shoots it back over his shoulder with a smile, all too aware that he’s got the advantage.

Whether it’s a fair point or not, that doesn’t make it any less aggravating. With a disgruntled humph Chuck turns to face the opposite wall, tempted to try and fall asleep before he gets back from the bathroom. Wouldn’t be that hard, honestly, even if Max has retreated to his own bed now.

But it’s not the widest of mattresses, and it always takes a bit of adjusting for both of them to get comfortable. So far they’ve managed to avoid kicking each other out during the night, one of the benefits of her being kind of clingy and hard to dislodge. There’s no way she’d fall out without taking him with her. Not that he seems to be trying, of course, quite the opposite. It only seems like they ever get more tangled together by the time morning comes.

No more lonely mornings. At least not yet.

Sure enough, she’s jolted back to full awareness when there’s that telltale tug on the sheets and his warm body fits itself against hers. Which is nice and all, but on second thought she’s not annoyed enough to stay turned away. Fortunately they’re getting pretty good at this unspoken negotiation, and soon enough Chuck’s content.

Still, she doesn’t want to be too soppy or disappointing, giving him a soft poke. ‘Sure you wanna be boring?'

‘There’s nothing boring about this.’ Even though Herc doesn’t seem particularly tired there’s no doubt that he’s being honest.

Of course there isn’t, but Chuck’s still glad to get his confirmation. She’ll make it up to him in the morning anyway, she’s getting pretty good at that. ‘Sap.'

‘You’re one to talk.’

Well, yeah. It’s a losing argument, but that wasn’t the point.

Chuck doesn’t always find it easy to relax, but there’s no question that she sleeps a lot better now that they’re bunking together properly. So much easier to drift off when she can feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Here. Real. Shit, she is soft. But does it really matter so much if it’s just him that sees it?

No, not really. There’s almost nothing that she's got hidden from Herc now. And sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be open, considering how much she fucked up by keeping her feelings to herself in the first place. He needs that just as much as she does.

He needs her.

Sensing that he’s losing her again, he gives her a soft squeeze. ‘Sweet dreams.'

‘Only if you’re there.’ She mumbles it, mind already half gone, the words probably a lot less intelligible than she thinks. It’s true, though, those are always the best ones.

Even if they can't quite compare to the real thing, close as they may sometimes come. The line can get a bit blurry, really, especially when waking up just feels like they're going straight into a second round. They always seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to that. And...

The thought brings a fresh surge of energy with it, helping her prop herself up and frown down at him. Even if the effect is likely ruined by her tired state. ‘Have we been _ghosting?_ '

Shit, had she really been overlooking more signs that this was a two-way thing between them? Thinking back maybe he had been a bit… smug on some of those mornings, although a lot of the time Chuck had been too busy feeling guilty to entirely pay attention to how he was acting. It makes a disturbing amount of sense, how easy it had been, like it was all just second nature, and how he’d known exactly what she was weak to… All because of the Drift hangover.

Judging from the way he’s not quite meeting her eyes, Herc’s had thoughts along the same lines. And fuck, if he’d suspected as much then why had he never said anything about it?

Before she gets a chance to turn this into an interrogation, though, there’s the distant but distinct sound of a door slamming, followed by a muffled sort of shouting. Which is kind of odd. Even though things never shut down like they do at the Academy the living areas never tend to be noisy at this time of night. Everyone values what sleep they can get, having to be constantly ready to leap into action at the first sign of a Kaiju, so this sort of commotion’s more than a little unsettling. If those K-Science guys have been drinking again…

Though it _would_ give Bauer a chance to be pissed off at someone else for a change...

While she's tempted to brush it off, and let probable justice take its course, it's too unusual to do that. Although unusual is really kind of normal in the Dome that doesn't mean things like this should just be ignored. No matter how little she likes the idea of getting up, however temporarily, because she is still tired damn it. And annoyed. So very annoyed.

Sliding gracelessly off the bed before Herc can get up instead she makes a halfhearted attempt to look a bit less rough, tugging her collar up in a way that’s becoming second nature. With as much of an irritated motion as she can manage, given the uncooperative nature of the door, Chuck yanks it open and sticks her head out into the brightness of the corridor.

Although the light takes a second to adjust to she still spots someone running past in LOCCENT blue. Not looking nearly guilty enough, all things considered.

‘ _Oi!_ What the fuck's going on?'

The guy has the decency to pause, flinching, and even though his eyes give her a once over an answer isn't long in coming. ‘It’s Gipsy Danger. It’s gone.'

Chuck’s frown deepens, sure she can’t have heard that right. ‘What?'

Rather than correcting her tired brain and coming out with something sensible, though, he just makes it worse. ‘It got taken down by a Cat-3 off Anchorage. The Beckets are MIA.'

MIA?

That can't be right. Even if the Beckets are glory-hogging assholes they’re still pretty decent pilots. And Gipsy’s an impressive Jaeger, as far as Mark 3s go. Sure, there’ve been some malfunctions and close scrapes in the past - plus Brawler, but that was more because it was a prototype that wasn’t really meant to be in the field - but… They don’t _lose_ Jaegers. Kaiju don’t _win_.

With nothing else left to add, and apparently keen to get to LOCCENT rather than hang around here, the guy makes himself scarce while Chuck’s still lost in thought. Not that there’s any point in this, if it’s really true… Well, there’s not exactly much anyone here in Sydney can do about whatever’s going on.

There’s an undeniably sick feeling in her stomach, all ideas of sleep or interrogation or even anything more enjoyable gone. If it’s true then this is bad. The only question is just _how_ bad it actually is, or ends up becoming... Those goddamn idiots. This would’ve been kill number five. So what, they’d taken their eye off the ball at the worst possible time? What the fuck were they playing at? How stupid could you be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exit Gipsy Danger, pursued by a Knifehead.
> 
> So... this is late ^^; I'm afraid things got a bit on top of me for a while there, but hopefully now that it's a new year I'm getting back on track.
> 
> Thanks for dropping by, awesome people, and here's to a better 2017.


	37. Ghosts

That sick feeling doesn’t go away. Chuck's cycled through a lot of emotions in the last few hours; anger mostly, mixed in with frustration and worry and something that’s unpleasantly like fear. Not that she’s a particularly big fan of the asshole Beckets, but there’s a big difference between wanting to crush someone competitively and being okay with the prospect of them being killed in action. It’s more than that, though, and more than the echo of another night she could do without remembering.

Vulcan’s pilots are loitering around in LOCCENT too, like there’s some sort of Ranger solidarity thing going. Kind of makes sense, she guesses, they’re Mark-3 pilots and were probably at the Academy around the same time as the Beckets. Bauer, meanwhile, comes in and out of the room about two dozen times before she stops bothering to keep count; getting new information, updating the relevant authorities on the situation and rinse and repeat. From the way that scowl of his gets darker and darker as the night drags on he’s probably getting press on his tail too.

Gipsy is missing for close to three hours, beacon down and about half the PPDC scrambling to pinpoint the Jaeger in the rough waters of the North Pacific. Then, at long last, she shows up, collapsed on a snowy Alaska beach with only one pilot to be found. Rumours had already been flying around about whether one or both of the Beckets had been killed in action, speculation spreading rapidly between the Shatterdomes. But...

It would take a heart of stone not to feel at least some sympathy for Raleigh. Losing someone like that… She can’t imagine anything worse. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

The festering feeling in her stomach is still only getting worse and Chuck just… doesn’t want to be here right now. The knowledge of what’s happened is already lodged in her brain, digging itself deeper the more she thinks about it, so she needs to just not think for a while. Pretend that none of this has happened. What she needs is a distraction, a good one.

And, more than that, she needs to reassure herself.

Pushing off the wall where she’s been perched for the last who-knows-how-long she takes a moment to stretch, allowing herself one last glance around the room. Still busier than it should be, although one of the operators in the corner looks like they’ve fallen asleep on their desk. That or they’re just resting their head there while they wait for the next round of coffee to come. Still, the energy is a lot more muted than she’s ever seen it, a gloom settling over the place that is probably going to hang over the entire Dome for the next few days. It’s depressing and she doesn’t like it.

To Lucas’ inquiring look she shrugs, not bothering to mince her words; ‘I’m done.'

He gives her an approving nod that she didn’t need, as well as an intent sort of look. Like he can see through her. ‘Rest well.'

She won’t, and Chuck’s pretty sure he knows that. But the other Ranger isn’t the type to press the matter, even though she can feel his eyes following her as she makes a beeline for her co-pilot.

Tension’s clear in the way Herc’s holding himself and maybe he isn’t as tired as some people but he clearly needs a break. That makes her feel just a little less selfish when she inserts herself between him and the monitor he’s currently looking at, not quite crazy enough to risk anything more touchy right now. 'C’mon, break time.'

For a moment she thinks she's going to have to resort to physically dragging him out of here with her. Which, worn down or not, she is more than willing to try right now. It's for his own good as well as hers. After all, he’s running on even less sleep than her right now.

But after a long second of apparently trying to read something in her mood the tension in his shoulders eases just a little bit. ‘Alright.'

It feels like an important victory, almost enough to bring a smile to her face. Almost but not quite. She won't feel easy until she's actually got him alone again. There’s too much shit going on in her head and she needs to just stop thinking, at least for a little while, before it drives her crazy.

Trying to act like she couldn’t care less about whether he’s following her or not, Chuck doesn’t wait around and stalks out of LOCCENT. Honestly, it’s a really demoralising place to be, even if it is where all the most up-to-date news is coming in. So much energy still being wasted when there’s nothing left that any of them can do to help. Gipsy has been found, case closed, now everyone has to focus on fixing this mess. Best case scenario, this might at least give the Americans enough of a kick up the ass to get a new Jaeger in development already.

Not even once does she glance at him along the way, not needing to exacerbate her restlessness, getting back to their quarters first and patiently holding the door open. They still need to talk about that little revelation from earlier but she isn’t in the mood for that. Talking means thinking, and she just needs… something she doesn’t have to think about.

Of course, Herc immediately goes to say something, giving her a look that’s a little too perceptive for her liking, but whatever he’s planning on asking she doesn’t let him. Manhandling him can be a bit of a hit-and-miss tactic, only usually working when he’s willing to let it or when she catches him enough by surprise. There’s too much of a difference in strength for it to be otherwise. But this time it works, mercifully, and she gets him pushed up against the nearest wall without any fuss, proceeding to shut him up with a kiss.

It’s hard and insistent, far more desperate than she’d like to admit, but it’s the only explanation she’s capable of offering him right now. And, even though the move surprises him, Herc doesn’t take long to get with the program. There's yet to be a time when he’s turned her down. In fact, he seems to like it when she initiates, even if he still tends to end up taking charge.

Although it does help to quiet the thoughts in her mind it’s not enough. Not yet. Not by a long shot.

Having him pressed against the wall _does_ slightly complicate the matter of getting his clothes off, but Chuck doesn’t exactly care for the effort of getting all the way to the bed either. It’s frustrating and it only makes her more impatient. She does manage to push his vest off, somehow, despite him not being the most cooperative and insisting on busying his hands elsewhere. So then she does the sensible thing and hooks a leg around his waist, making sure to press against him just _so_...

The effect is instant, Herc groaning deeply, hands sliding to her ass and squeezing. Fuck, she loves that, and he knows it. There are definitely too many layers between them right now but at least he seems to be on the same page. That underlying hesitance is definitely gone, with him pushing at the waistband of her trousers in a way that’s not entirely effective but still pretty encouraging. Nothing else matters, just this.

Chuck does have to admit that the wall really isn’t working out so well, though. It never really does in the end, not unless either of them particularly feels like coming in their pants at the time. But she doesn’t much feel like talking still, instead sucking at the side of his neck and giving his shirt a hopefully instructive tug. Contrary to what some people believe, co-pilots can’t read each other’s minds all the time, but he knows her well enough that the thought should be clear.

Herc understands, he was probably thinking something along the same lines anyway. And seeing as she’s pretty much climbed up onto him already it’s actually not so much of a hassle to transfer across the short stretch of floor between the wall and the bed. Any opportunity that gets him to carry her is always a positive thing, really, even if the tumble into bed isn’t entirely dignified.

Once he’s got her pinned against the mattress, though, there’s nothing to stop him giving her another one of those looks. Like he’s worried. And that is not a development she likes at all. ‘Are you-?'

‘Less talking, more fucking.’ _Please._ She only narrowly saves herself from adding that, it’d have ruined the commanding growl she’d miraculously managed there. For good measure she throws in a bit of a lazy grind with her hips. He can’t say no to her when she stops caring about being shameless.

‘ _God._ ’

Yeah, he’s not going to be asking many more questions tonight, wasting no time in capturing her mouth again. None, if she gets her way. Which shouldn’t be too hard, her eagerness having well and truly rubbed off on him now. Even ignoring everything else, it’s been over a day since they last had sex. That’s still quite a long time in their book, the initial rush of passion not having faded even slightly.

In a good show of coordination they manage to make relatively short work of each other’s clothes without having to particularly break apart. Practice is pretty quickly making perfect. Once her legs are bare Chuck manages to get them back around his waist and flips them over, regaining dominance. Though it’s debatable just how much of that she’s got back, his hands peeling her bra off while he carries on trailing bites down her neck.

Growling, she shifts her hips in search of more friction, wanting this to go faster but also for it to never end. Right now she just _wants_ ; wants to still feel this when she wakes up in the morning, wants his hands to leave marks on her skin, wants the proof that he’s alive and with her and isn’t ever going to go anywhere.

Despite the fact that they’re not exactly being quiet the sound of his palm hitting her ass still resounds loudly. More than that, Chuck _feels_ it and the hot surge of adrenaline it sends through her entire system.

‘ _Fuck_.’ The pronunciation probably gets a little lost in the way she breathily exhales.

‘Okay?’ Herc casually massages the spot he’d hit - which is just serving to turn her on more - but he has to know the answer to that already.

Like she hasn’t been waiting _days_ for him to get round to actually spanking her. Like she hasn't been fantasising about this ever since that hotel room in Manila. ’Shit, _yes_.’

Just as she’d hoped that earns her another slap and god, it shouldn’t feel nearly as good as it does. She doesn’t bite her cheek quite fast enough to stop a groan getting out, blushing in spite of herself.

‘You’re so damn filthy.’ His words are hot against her ear, as if they don’t both know exactly where she gets it from.

‘Only for you.'

Her ass stings again, the spank even harder than the last, but rather than following it up with soft stroking he squeezes instead, leverage as he rolls his hips. And, seriously, why is he still wearing anything?

Coming to a similar conclusion he pulls back just a little to give a gruff order, accompanied by an apparently encouraging smack; ‘Draw.'

Chuck’s really not in the mood to leave his lap any time soon, but she can’t argue with that growl. Although that doesn’t mean that she moves without having one last grind to tide her over and maybe make him regret making her leave even for a second. He’s far too good at remembering this, no matter how turned on she gets him first.

Still, irritating as the interruption may be, it doesn’t take her long to fish one out. If anyone else looked in here they’d be busted for sure; the condoms kept within easy reach, not really hidden, and the box already half empty. Maybe if he’d just relax and occasionally fuck her without…

That line of thought goes straight out of her head when she turns back to the bed, though. Because honestly it’s hard to think about much else when she has a view like that; her dad completely exposed, lying back on his elbows and watching her like _she’s_ the best thing in the world. Yeah, she doesn’t care that she sacrifices grace for speed just to get back over there and get her mouth on his again. Not that he seems to care either.

God, she loves him.

Still, Chuck’s impatient, tearing open the wrapper and rolling it on in a fluid motion she’s distantly proud of. But that’s nothing to the relief of finally, _finally_ , sinking onto his cock. Maybe she’s a bit tighter than she should be but that doesn’t matter because of that stretch and the way he groans, fingers digging into her hips so hard she knows there’s going to be bruises there in the morning.

‘Such a good girl...'

It’s amazing that even when he’s coming undone Herc can still get under her skin so effortlessly. Sometimes she thinks that just him talking like this to her would be enough to get her off. Maybe some day she’ll have the patience to test it, but not this time.

Tightly strung as she already is it doesn’t take all that much to push her over the edge, biting back a groan as her muscles clench. The tension floods out of her, and even though she has no intention of leaving him unfinished she can’t help but slump back down to rest against his chest. She needed that. Just like she needs the way his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer.

Still, she’s only just catching her breath when the world tilts and she finds herself on her back again. Blissed out as Chuck is she doesn’t mind the change in position. Much as she might like being in control she’ll always prefer it when she’s under him. Not that she admits it out loud. Not that she needs to.

Wrapping her legs tighter around him she likes to think she does a decent job of meeting at least some of his thrusts, getting more in sync once the endorphins start to wear off and the heat comes back. It doesn’t take long to find that perfect angle, where he can bury himself deep and they hit it once, twice, a dozen times until she’s even more of a shivering mess. It’s almost like he sees it as a challenge to make her even louder, and thank _god_ the walls are soundproofed.

‘Fuck, _Daddy._ '

Her voice cracks at the end, the words slipping out without her even thinking about it, but she doesn’t pay attention to that because then he’s pulling her into a bruising kiss and coming.

They’re both panting, sweaty, an absolute state, but it’s perfect. Eyes closed, he rests his forehead against hers as she strokes his cheek, wishing time to go slower so she can hold onto this moment for even a little longer.

But the world goes on and he shifts, pulling out with a quick peck and going to dispose of the evidence in the bathroom. Reluctantly coming back down Chuck tugs out the sheet and shuffles onto her side to make room, freshly worn out but so very satisfied with the way she aches.

She doesn’t have to wait long until Herc rejoins her, readily settling down and tangling their limbs together, only for him to frown when she inadvertently flinches. 'Was I too rough?'

It's kind of sweet, how worried he gets about hurting her sometimes, even though it's ridiculous. She's not fragile. But it just means that he cares, that little show of caution over what's happening between them. He's still her dad, after all, and she can hardly find it in herself to be irritated when she’s still in that post-sex glow.

Chuck shakes her head just a little. ‘Don’t worry, that was good.'

Good is one hell of an understatement, but he doesn’t call her on it, too busy being relieved that he hadn’t done something she hadn’t enjoyed. Times like this she sees a fleeting trace of his underlying hesitance about this. Though he does a good job of hiding it she knows it still worries him sometimes, like it can still worry her. Not that either of them’s got any intention of letting go, that’s never in question.

Snuggling closer, just to make absolutely sure that he doesn’t get any stupid ideas about going back out there, she indulges her softer impulses and nuzzles him. Content, at least for the time being, she can relax and take some time to properly appreciate him. Even though she’s already learned his body there’s something satisfying in letting her hands wander lazily. 

Until her fingers graze against the roughness of a circuit burn, the fragment of the familiar pattern of the neural circuitry etched into his skin, and she freezes. Even on the best days the scars still sadden her. But today? The reminder is just that little bit too keen. How close had he come to something more serious? Too close.

And she'll be damned if she lets him suffer any more of these.

Herc notices her soft whine, of course he does, and he naturally guesses what’s wrong straight away. Gently he pulls her hand away, linking their fingers instead. ‘Don’t think about it.'

Dwelling on the past doesn’t help anyone, Chuck knows that, has been told it more than enough times. And the whole point of this - aside from getting him back to bed rather than spending all night in LOCCENT - was to stop thinking. Turning her mind off once it gets going isn’t exactly easy, but the warmth of his skin against hers helps a lot.

Besides, they haven’t had a chance to finish that conversation yet. Avoiding his eyes, she absently rubs circles against his palm, a little apprehensive of where this could go. ‘When did you figure it out?'

‘Hmm?’

Okay, maybe that was a bit too much of a leap in subject. Especially when it seems like the long day is finally starting to catch up to him. And shit, him being tired shouldn’t do the things it does to her.

‘About us. Ghost drifting.'

Apparently that’s an answer he really needs to consider, humming. He’d obviously suspected it for a while, ahead of her again, which only stings a little bit. ‘I had a pretty good idea what was happening after the first few times, but I wasn’t ever sure.'

‘Seriously?’ There’s less heat in it than Chuck would have liked, even if she is still pretty indignant that he’d had an idea about it _quite_ that long ago. Shit, it’s embarrassing, in spite of the fact that they’ve literally just had sex. ‘You could’ve _said_ something.'

‘Like what?’ Already the apology has given way to a more teasing note, though it’s hard to begrudge him anything when he’s doing that sleepy drawl again. ‘Morning, did you dream about us having sex in the Conn-Pod last night?'

Fair point. At least… ‘But after we- you know, you could’ve told me.'

‘I wanted to see how long it took for you to get it.'

Post-coital sappiness or not she can’t let that slide, giving him a light punch in the arm. ‘What _else_ are you waiting for me to get, huh?'

‘Well…’ Graciously ignoring the well-deserved swat, he instead tilts her chin up and smirks; ‘I’m still waiting for you to believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are.'

On cue her cheeks start to burn, which is _ridiculous_ but it happens every time he does this. His flirting gets under her skin like nothing else, but when he says this sort of thing in particular… it makes her ten kinds of awkward all over again. It’s stupid, it’s just something he says. At least it’s never as intense as it was during that Drift, lacking the full force of everything that seems to be tied up with the simple comment.

‘Shut up.’ Mumbling it, she does her best to hide her face in the pillow and disguise her embarrassment. Which is a pointless exercise, but at least she can pretend to have salvaged some of her dignity.

Undeterred, he runs a hand through her hair, leaning close to murmur close in her ear; ‘Still waiting.'

Obviously he’s never going to stop pressing this, but there’s far worse things he could be stubborn over, she supposes.

-

It’s not pretty. What happened to Gipsy is all over the news come morning and it's _bad_. There’s always been detractors, she should know, but they all seem to have decided to come back out of the woodwork. Accusing the Program of being a waste just because one Jaeger got totalled in the line of duty. It’s not even like the Beckets didn’t manage to kill the Kaiju either. Fucking ingrates.

The rumours and the speculation circulates inside the Shatterdome too, because even though people are smart enough not to gossip in front of Bauer or certain others they still do it. From what she picks up - and Jack straight out tells her - the Kaiju apparently played dead. Which is… more unsettling than Chuck likes to admit, pulling a face and pretending that it’s the least interesting thing she’s ever heard.

Kaiju aren’t meant to be tactical. But even if they are, it doesn’t matter. The two of them aren’t complacent, they can handle anything that’s thrown at them. There’s nothing to worry about. This tightness in her stomach shouldn’t still be here.

But it is.

So maybe she starts spending more time with the punching bag, so what? She just wants to make sure she's as ready as possible when the time comes, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Except then somebody decides that it’s a good idea to mandate that all active Rangers have a fresh psych check up, just to be on the safe side. Standard practice, according to her dad, but that doesn’t make it any more appealing. Honestly, she’d really hoped to stay off their radar for much longer than this, but it seems that for everything that’s gone right recently there has to be another that goes wrong.

She doesn’t go, obviously, making herself scarce and subtly avoiding public areas of the Dome as much as possible. When the shrink finally manages to corner her a couple of days later Chuck just brushes it off as having gotten distracted; there’s more important things to focus on after all. Because the shrink’s a shrink, though, that excuse clearly doesn’t fly and there’s a definite warning in the way the woman eyes her and firmly reschedules.

Which is why she’s now spending the afternoon up on the roof, even though the wet weather’s far from ideal, and has absolutely no intention of going back down until it’s late enough for the shrink to have clocked off for another day. Maybe this’ll only make things worse for her in the long-run, but Chuck has no interest in talking to another one of those professional meddlers. She’s had more than enough of that psychoanalysis bullshit for one lifetime, thank you. Just because there’s talk about indefinitely shutting down Jaeger production…

It’s not a crime to want to be left alone. And none of this is going to affect her ability to pilot anyway so fuck off with that shit.

For once it’s remarkably peaceful up here, things still a little quieter than usual thanks to the fact that the next Kaiju attack is likely some time away yet. Makes a nice change from the atmosphere down below, even if Chuck kind of regrets that she’d had to leave Max behind in order to better lay low. Lacking anything much to occupy herself she ends up closing her eyes, listening to the gentle drumming of the rain and focusing on that rather than thinking about anything else.

Until the sound of wet footsteps catches her attention and a slightly damp Jack ducks into cover with her. ‘Fancy finding you up here.’

He’s grinning, so he hasn’t twigged to the reason behind her choosing to spend her afternoon sheltering under a tarp rather than somewhere a little more watertight. That’s a relief, because he definitely wouldn’t make life easier for her if he knew what she was up to.

So she smiles back, genuinely glad for the company. ‘It’s almost like we planned this.'

‘You could almost call it a date.’ Dropping down next to her, close but not too close, Jack drags out the offending word with a sly smirk. Before he can try to carry on that line of thought, though, he winces, giving an irritated huff; ‘Ah, I swear I’m not old enough to have back pain.'

‘I don’t know, you’re starting to get on a bit.'

‘Alright, remind me not to cut you any slack when you get to eighteen.’ It’s good-natured grumbling, as usual, he’ll probably have completely forgotten about the slight within the hour.

‘Back pain’s going to be least of my problems then.’ Off the top of her head she can list about a dozen potential problems that’ll be higher up her priorities than any sort of ache. Besides, she’s used to that sort of thing, it kind of comes with the territory.

For some reason the energy seems to drain out of him at that, the tech going all wistful and scuffing a foot against the concrete. ‘Yeah…'

‘What?'

Rather than doing the sensible thing and telling her Jack just shakes his head, glancing up at the sky and clambering back to his feet. ‘You certainly won’t have any problems then if you stay out here and kill yourself with flu first.'

‘It’s barely raining.’ And her spot is dry anyway, so it’s a moot point in the first place.

As if on cue the rain gets harder, or maybe she just didn't notice how heavy it had gotten until he's looking at her with a raised eyebrow and letting the silence stretch. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘I’ll wait it out.'

‘There’s stubborn and then there’s you.’ He rolls his eyes, taking advantage of being out of easy retaliation range, and promptly takes five steps backwards until he’s completely out of cover and exposed to the rain. ’Now come on, before I die of hypothermia.'

‘You’re fucking ridiculous.’ Although Chuck does try valiantly to keep a straight face she's unable to entirely hide the note of amusement.

‘What can I say?’ Jack spreads his arms, as if he’s purposely trying to get himself as soaked through as possible, grinning all the while. 'It works.'

And damn him, it does. Because _he’s_ going to give himself a cold at this rate, like the idiot he is. Even if it's his own stupid fault she can't just sit back and let him make himself sick.

So, steeling herself, Chuck reluctantly leaves her nice dry spot and steps out into what’s fast turning into a downpour. Annoyingly it starts to soak into her clothes all too quickly, and maybe it was a bad idea not to wear more than a t-shirt but that doesn’t prove her idiot friend’s point. Rather than taking the time to enjoy this impromptu shower she goes to grab the jackass and drag him back into shelter, only for him to dodge out of reach.

‘Race you inside!'

And just like that he hightails it for the door, like he didn’t just make her follow him out into the wet. 

It’s tempting to ignore him, settle back down and go back to waiting for it to get dark enough for her to be sure that the coast is clear for another day. But that’s a much less appealing proposition now that she’s no longer dry, not least because she really could catch a cold if she stays out here in wet clothes for too long. Which Bauer would naturally take as an excuse to ground her, because sneezing while in control of Jaeger is probably not a good idea.

Besides, a challenge is a challenge.

‘Prick!'

Even though he'd got a decent head start she catches up just as he reaches the door, skidding to a less-than-graceful stop before she ends up taking a flight straight down the stairs. Something about that is apparently hilarious, considering the way that Jack dissolves into a fit of hysterics. He's so immature.

But the laughter's contagious, even if she's half-soaked and can still feel that tightness in her stomach. Just for a minute Chuck can let herself relax, safe in the knowledge that there's nobody else here to see it. Things between the two of them haven't quite been right since getting back from leave so it’s a relief to know that underneath that it’s still the same as ever.

Still, it's hard not to be at least a little bit salty, so she gives him a mostly playful shove. ‘Cheat.’

He has the indecency to look offended, despite the fact that he's still catching his breath. ‘How else am I supposed to compete with those long legs of yours?'

‘You’re still what, four inches taller than me?’ That's possibly his crappiest attempt at an excuse yet, even though she is objectively the better runner. ‘Is it really so bad being beaten by a girl?'

‘Not when it’s you.’ Although he pushes her back there's no force in it and his hand lingers on her shoulder.

Maybe it’s the weird lighting of the stairwell but Herc’s words come back to her; _he’s interested in you_. Suddenly she finds herself doubting her earlier conviction, although maybe that’s only because her dad put the thought in her head first, but Jack’s still touching her and...

Loudly clearing his throat, Herc announces himself as he rounds the corner and strides up the last few stairs. It doesn’t take Drift compatibility to guess what he’s thinking.

Instinctively Chuck takes a step away from her friend, mostly for the sake of keeping him out of trouble. Because _someone_ needs to prioritise that. As, true to form, Jack hesitates to pull his hand back, refusing to let on if he’s at all intimidated and already clearly starting to puff up for a fight. And just like that the air turns thick with the worst kind of tension.

Rather than acknowledging it Herc simply ignores the third person in the room. Although she knows that at least some of the way he steps closer into her space and brushes a strand of hair out of her face is done for the benefit of their audience. If it weren’t for the fact that they’re really not meant to be letting anyone figure out what’s going on between them he’d probably be a whole lot more demonstrative.

‘How long’ve you been hiding up here, sweetheart?'

That’s a trick question, obviously, so she dodges it, even as the mental alarm bells go. ‘I wasn’t hiding.'

‘So you just forgot that you’re supposed to be going to medical today?’ He’s not fooled, of course he’s not, and _of course_ they decided to put him on her case.

‘I was?’ Denial is a knee-jerk reaction, even if it clearly won’t help her this time. Maybe someone who didn’t know her would be fooled by the false innocence, but not her dad.

And not Jack either, who instantly turns on her with an all-too-accusatory frown. ‘Really?'

Damn it. Of all the places for them to find common ground... ‘It’s not a big deal, they’re just checking that nobody’s freaked out by what happened to Gipsy.'

Which is exactly the sort of concession that her dad was waiting to pounce on. 'So you shouldn’t have a problem coming with me now that I’ve reminded you then.’

Chuck’s backed into a corner and she knows it. Either she goes peacefully and has to deal with the shrink asking her stupid questions or she has to explain why she doesn’t want to and have to deal with the consequences of that. As well as inevitably being forced to go chat with the shrink after. But at the end of the day there’s only one choice here, even if it’s probably too late to entirely escape from at least some questioning later. Most likely from both of them.

‘Whatever, but I’m drying off first.'

Rather than waiting around for anyone to try arguing with that she takes off down the stairs. She’d be lying if she said there wasn’t at least a thought of trying to slip off and find somewhere else to spend the rest of the afternoon that isn’t in medical. But, unfortunately, having her dad on the case means she’s got virtually no chance of that. When Herc gets into parental mode there’s simply no distracting him.

-

Sometimes she’s not sure which is worse; the sterile examination rooms or the faux-comfortable style of the psychiatrist's office. Probably whichever one she’s stuck in at the time, because right now Chuck definitely hates this place. Everything about it is designed to put her at her ease; it’s all blatant manipulation to get people to roll right over and spill all their innermost thoughts at the slightest prompt. Well, she knows better, guard up with no intention of telling this woman anything.

Rather more relaxed, even with a hand poised to take notes and a suspicious file sat open on the desk, the shrink waits for a long moment before breaking the tense silence; ‘You don’t seem very happy to be here.'

‘I just don’t like wasting my time.’ Chuck can be honest when it suits her, no point beating around the bush.

Predictably the sentiment doesn’t go down all that well, the shrink’s lips pressing into a thinner line. ‘It won’t take long if you’re willing to cooperate. What happened in Alaska has shaken people up and we just want to make sure that all of our Rangers are still in a good mental state, that’s all.'

They’re evidently very keen on this sort of thing, wanting to minimise the risks that come with the Drift. And from the start they’ve been onto her. Even though she wished the PPDC hadn’t been able to get a hold of her medical records it had been a necessary sacrifice. While she’s not one hundred percent sure what’s written in her notes Chuck knows it isn’t exactly ideal reading for a position like hers.

But that’s all in the past. And it will _stay_ there.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Maybe it comes out a bit combative but she couldn’t care less about that, they deserve it for forcing her to sit through this shit.

‘I think we both know the answer to that.'

Unbidden, her eyes flick down to the file on the desk, really wishing she could make out what it says from this distance, upside down. Sure, it can’t be that bad, or else they’d never have let her near a Conn-Pod in the first place. But she remembers the sort of words the doctors had tossed around over the years. A lot of bullshit, but that stuff can stick. How many of those are in there? Chuck doesn’t think she wants to find out.

Jaw clenching, she digs her fingers into her palms and says nothing. Silence is the best option, if she’s going to avoid walking herself into any more traps. It doesn’t matter how much the woman gives her that expectant look, it won’t work.

Eventually the shrink realises that she isn’t getting anywhere with that tactic, sighing; ‘So, you wouldn’t say you were particularly close to the Beckets then?'

‘We were on one drop together, I barely even spoke to them.’ Well, her attempting in vain to kick them where it hurts didn’t really count as a conversation, did it? Sure, she can feel bad for them, but it’s nothing personal. Even if she’s also maybe a little pissed off at them for being so stupid and dragging them all into this.

‘Alright.’ The shrink makes a note, like that was important information or in any way surprising, and tries another stare-down. ‘How do you feel about going back out in the field again?'

Really? How is that even a question? It’s not like this is the first time someone’s died in a Jaeger, far from it, even if the circumstances are just a little different on this occasion. Nothing could change her mind about taking Striker out there, though, not as long as there’s blood in her veins and air in her lungs.

‘This doesn’t change anything.'

‘You’re not afraid of what could happen?’ As if pushing the matter would really change her answer.

‘No.’

That merits another note; could be good or bad, it’s hard to tell. On the one hand, they’re probably happy that she’s not the sort of lightweight who would see a Jaeger go down and suddenly get cold feet about the whole thing. On the other… doctors tend to think stupid things about a lack of fear and what it may or may not say about a person.

Rather than asking one of the more obvious follow-up questions, however, the woman taps her chin and opts to change the subject. ‘And how are you sleeping?'

This is meant to wrong-foot her, of course, so Chuck rolls with it. ‘Fine.'

And she is. Mostly thanks to the fact that there’s little choice but to eventually fall asleep when she's too tangled up with Herc to slip out without disturbing him. Even more so when they'd just had a satisfying fuck.

‘That’s good.’ Maybe it’s not meant to be patronising but it sure sounds like it. ‘You seem to have settled in well; would you say that you’re finding it easier to manage the levels of stress?’

’Sure.’ Compared to when she was stuck in Perth, just waiting for time to move faster and let her actually _do_ something, she’s much more relaxed.

‘Because your relationship with your father has improved?'

Oh no, not this bullshit. This is not a subject she wants to start tiptoeing around with this shrink. She’s never liked the way everyone always ended up poking at that particular raw nerve, and even though it’s not nearly so sore a point now there’s a whole other reason for not letting them psychoanalyse it. In fact, Chuck thinks that this little chat really ran its course a couple of minutes ago.

Except making a big deal out of the question would only look suspicious, so she just ends up awkwardly shuffling in her seat. Making sure to take an obvious look at the clock too, playing up the boredom. ‘I guess you could say that.'

There’s a telltale hesitation, the woman adopting a deceptively light tone as if to soften the impact; ‘So you’ve eaten today?’

‘Yes.’ It comes out through gritted teeth, her hands reflexively balling into fists.

Medical people always think that denying something too strongly means that it’s a lie. But shit, she is just _sick_ of them harping on about the same old things. The number of times she’s had to explain this, over and over. She forgets to eat sometimes, alright, that’s not a big deal. It was just that one time that she collapsed, which was really more to do with the fact that she was worn out from exercise, and there’s really nothing so unusual about a teenager passing out anyway. 

Besides, these days she knows her limits.

‘I just want to make sure you’re staying healthy, that’s all.'

_We can’t have unhealthy Rangers._ Although the shrink doesn’t say it the underlying message is clear. _Weakness will not be tolerated._

But Chuck’s not weak. Not anymore. And she resents that anyone doubts it.

Surging to her feet she slams her palms down on the desk, making the papers flutter, and narrows her eyes dangerously at the woman. She wants to make this crystal clear. ‘Listen, I’m not some overconfident asshole who’ll get outwitted by a damn Kaiju! You’ve got your answers, so you can report back to the Marshal and tell him that I’m _healthy_.'

Nothing’s ever enough to convince these sort of people but, hey, there’s really nothing much else for them to talk about now anyway. Enough with the questions. The familiar pressure is building against her skull, her skin prickling with anger, and Chuck knows that there’s not many better ways to get herself grounded than having a meltdown right in front of the shrink. So she forces herself to just _breathe_ , nice and slow, and straightens up. See? She can control her emotions.

Okay, so maybe she kicks the door on her way out, but as far as she’s concerned that’s still pretty restrained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That... wasn't supposed to be nearly so smutty. But apparently there's only so long I can keep the pair of them off each other, oh well. ;)
> 
> Unfortunately, it can't all be happy sex times, though...
> 
> As always thanks for stopping by, lovely people, I hope you enjoyed. x


	38. Not Enough

‘Hansen!’

There’s a voice nobody wants to hear calling them. But the lift’s a good few meters away and there’s no chance she can pretend not to have heard him, considering the near silence of the corridor. Max at least gives her a look of support, like he’d be willing to cover for her if it came down to it. She’s already hesitated, though, so really the only way out of this spot is to turn around and see what Commander Sunshine wants.

‘A word. Now.'

At another time Chuck would be quite happy to point out that he’d just had a word so she’s free to go. But as it is she’s almost finished a lap of the Dome and doesn’t quite have the energy for it, not if it’ll land her with an even longer chewing out. That and Bauer’s jaw is twitching more than usual so he’s already plenty pissed off.

Giving the lift one last look she reluctantly follows, regretting that she hadn’t taken the chance to change up her route when she’d had it. Ever since she’d walked out of the shrink’s office yesterday she’s been waiting for something to come of it, even while hoping that nothing would. Should’ve known they’d have kicked it straight up to the Commander.

Naturally, he marches straight into his office without bothering with the pretence of holding the door, not that she’d want him to. Admittedly this isn’t the worst mood she’s seen the man in, as much as he seems to have been particularly pissy ever since the Knifehead incident, but Chuck doesn’t like her chances here. At all.

Bauer’s clearly in a single syllable mood, gesturing at the chair opposite him; ‘Sit.'

Silently willing Max to be a good dog and mess some shit up she complies, taking a seat on the edge of the chair and crossing her arms. If they’re going to have this conversation there’s no way she’s going to pretend to be happy about it. That and she’s still trying to decide if it’s positive or not that Herc isn’t here; less chance of him getting involved in whatever shit they’ve come up with but if this is a dismissal…

Initially it feels like he’s just going to try and wait her out, let her do all the hard work and condemn herself. But, of course, Bauer doesn’t have the sort of patience for that.

‘Do you have any idea what a mess those Yanks have made for the rest of us?'

Not quite the opening line Chuck was expecting, but it doesn’t take much to guess where he’s probably going to go with it. ‘I have some idea. Sir.’

His lips curl, despite him still trying to give off that unaffected air. ‘Then you should realise that we can’t exactly afford any more... problems right now.'

 _I’m not a problem._ That’s what he wants her to say, so that he can claim she put the words in his mouth. Like he’s not telegraphing the message clear as daylight right now, with that superior glare.

Folding her hands together, and pushing away the nice thought of punching him, she bites her tongue. Of course the shrink hadn’t liked her walking out, they never like not being the ones in control. Though she shoots a quick look at his desk there’s no sign of the file, just a depressingly high stack of newspapers.

‘Doctor Maddox has raised concerns about your mental resilience.'

And there it is. On reflex her hands clench, fingers digging harder into her skin as the weight of it settles heavily on her shoulders. Of course they all doubt her, why wouldn’t they? Some things never change.

Keeping her voice as neutral as possible, because like hell is she going to let on that he’s getting to her, she looks him dead in the eye. ‘And what does that mean?'

‘That means that you’re at risk of becoming a serious liability.’ The underlying _more_ is pretty damn clear, though he does seem less happy to have her in this corner than she’d have expected. Even her weakness is like some great disappointment.

Wanting to twist the knife deeper, nonetheless, the Commander carries on; ‘Public support for the Program is the weakest it’s ever been right now and we don’t need to give them any more excuses to doubt the Corps. Surely you can understand that?'

Oh, she can understand alright. But not if it means what she thinks it means for her.

‘They're morons if they think one fuck up is enough to write off the rest of the Program.’ Might as well speak frankly, because worn out or not she _will_ fight him if he thinks this is just a good excuse to try and muscle her out again. A little too late she remembers to add an unenthusiastic; ‘Sir.'

Judging by the way his glower wavers, if only for a moment, Bauer just might agree with her for once. Not that it’ll do any good. ‘Be that as it may, I can’t have a mentally unhealthy Ranger on my watch.'

‘I’m not-'

‘What you are or are not isn’t up for debate.’ He snaps, leaning across the desk in an attempt to be more intimidating. ‘If the psych team says you’re a risk then I’m hardly going to take your word for it that you aren't.'

Sitting back again, he narrows his eyes at her, watching for the least twitch that he can pounce on. ‘Now, the way I see it you have two options here. Either you get your damn shit together and convince the psych team or you get grounded.’

It’s no less than she should’ve expected, but that doesn’t make hearing it any less of a kick in the teeth. She’s _fine_. How many times has she Drifted with Herc now? And not once has she compromised things. Ignoring that one little blip in Manila, but that was a special case anyway.

This is all such bullshit. And even though it’s clear that all the cards are in his hands Chuck can’t do anything but push back. ‘Because putting Striker out of commission this soon is really going to convince people?'

Bauer has a really unpleasant laugh, though it’s really more of a humourless sort of snort. ‘You really think you’re that irreplaceable? It might not be ideal but your father has switched co-pilots before, he could do it again. And it’s not like it wouldn’t get certain people off our backs either.'

It’s an empty threat and they both know it. Except he does have a point. Sure, what happened with Lucky wouldn’t happen again, not with them. But the precedent is there, and if push comes to shove then the good of the program is always going to come first. Always.

‘So, are you going to play ball or not? The choice is yours.'

What choice is there? If she loses Striker that’s it. No matter how much he cares about her she doesn’t think Herc could walk away from the fight just because she fucked up. But if he had to Drift with someone else - ignoring how awful that thought is - then the chances are that their secret would be outed. Which would make it an even bigger disaster, ruining his life just as much as hers. If not more.

Although Chuck would much rather go up against a Cat-IV with nothing but a stick than endure more quality time with the shrink it’s by far the lesser of the two evils. Striker, being a Ranger, that’s her life. In the end, it’s that simple.

Forcing the tension out of her shoulders, she sighs; ‘When do they want to start?’

‘Tomorrow, 1100 hours, you know where.’ Now that he’s gotten a result - although likely not the one he really wanted - Bauer lapses back into a rather more bored demeanour. He accompanies the words with a wave, not wanting her in his office any longer than she absolutely has to be there.

All too happy to make herself scarce, she glances around for Max. He’s sniffing one of the corners thoughtfully, although he comes trotting back to her as soon as he senses her movement. Still hasn’t learned to growl at the asshole like she’d have liked, but he’s really too nice a dog for that.

Just as she’s about to leave, though, the Commander can’t resist one last parting shot. ‘Make no mistake, if you pull that forgetfulness stunt again I will take that Jaeger away from you faster than you can go crying to your daddy.'

The only reason she doesn’t slam the door is because that would give him the satisfaction. Of course, she’s only got herself to blame for getting herself into this mess but that doesn’t mean he has to be such a damn dick about it.

-

Fortunately, she finds that as long as she shows up on time every time that keeps Bauer off her case and her combat status unchanged. An hour a week of being stuck in that stuffy room isn’t the _worst_ thing in the world, after all. Although Chuck chooses to spend pretty much every session giving the bare minimum amount of input she can get away with, the fact that she’s there seems to be enough. Not that there’s any sign of the woman being convinced that they’ve made enough progress, despite an utter lack of slammed doors.

Keen to prove the asshole Commander wrong she doesn’t tell Herc about it. He asks the first time and she brushes it off. So long as the powers that be don’t mention it to him then neither will she. No need to make it into a bigger deal than it really is, there’s enough other shit going on.

True to form the press have been running more than a few opinion pieces about whether the Jaegers are a worthwhile investment. It’s like a disturbing number of people have just suddenly forgotten about all the Program’s previous successes. At first, there was a lot about the tragedy of it, of course. Of how Raleigh piloted the Jaeger back to shore alone even after losing his brother, a feat comparable to what Stacker Pentecost did in Tokyo. But gradually it's all started to turn into an attack, even in some of the more reasonable outlets. What if we lose more Jaegers? What if there's a better way? One that doesn't involve putting people in harm's way or that'll end up in collateral damage? Why is it appropriate for a sixteen-year-old to be in that sort of danger?

Bunch of ingrates, the lot of them. Maybe next time they should just _let_ the Kaiju squash some of the assholes.

Doesn’t keep her from leaping up when the Kaiju alarm finally goes off again, though, more than ready to go. Especially when there’s no indication that anyone’s going to try and stop her suiting up. That eagerness starts to sour all too rapidly when it becomes clear that nobody else in the Drivesuit Room is anything other than tense. Like suddenly everyone’s all worried again.

Taking the helmet with a bit more of a jerk than strictly necessary, she snaps; ‘It’s like a fucking funeral in here.'

'Don't.' His look is just as sharp a reprimand as the word itself.

Maybe not the best choice of words, sure, but all this gloom is just irritating. It gets under her skin, feeling less of a reflection on the last Kaiju attack and more an expectation of the coming drop. The thing’s only a Cat-II for fuck’s sake, and Striker - _she_ \- is up to that. This kill is going to be indisputably theirs, it will be quick and it will be simple.

With that resolution clear in her mind she wastes no time and marches for the Conn-Pod, seeing as apparently she has to lead by example now. Besides, she’s getting pissed off so it’d be better to take it out on this Kaiju as soon as possible.

Still, Chuck tries to let at least a bit of it go as they get hooked into the rig and go through the increasingly mundane task of prepping for launch. Going into the Drift with too much negativity is a big no-no and they can’t afford that, especially not this time. Though it’d be a lot easier to put her own mood aside if she couldn’t still feel him radiating apprehension over there.

‘Right, time to get this show on the road, campers.’ At least there’s one person in this damn Shatterdome who still has some measure of confidence, with Nico apparently more than happy to make up for everyone else. ‘Initiating neural handshake in 3… 2… 1…'

If she’d had any doubts about the tension in Herc’s body language the feeling that he brings into their headspace today settles it. Shit, why is he worried? There’s no good reason for it and Chuck doesn’t hesitate to push right back against it, hoping that her confidence is enough to bring his back out.

_Come on, loosen up a little._

He shoots her another look, like she’s the one being unreasonable here. _Caution isn’t a bad thing, you know._

She can’t quite hold back the prickle of annoyance she feels at the implication, as if she’s ever been anything but dead serious as far as fighting Kaiju is concerned. The last thing she needs is him doubting her too.

Whatever, if he wants serious then she’ll give him serious. Although Chuck doesn’t need to rely on it nearly so much as she used to she can still shut things out of the Drift pretty well if she puts her mind to it. Which, hey, means she’s in control of her damn thoughts, doesn’t it?

People want proof? Well, getting this Kaiju killed would be a good start.

-

The flight to Indonesia is not the most pleasant, that sense of tension refusing to dissipate. While the neural handshake doesn't waver it stays quieter than usual, still faintly tinged with the clash of his worry and her frustration. But it doesn't matter too much, neither of them's going to let that get in the way.

Things are pretty still when they drop down on the ten-mile mark, the Kaiju still en route and the area long since cleared of any maritime traffic. Weather’s better than what they left behind in Sydney, the ocean nice and calm. Pretty ideal conditions to take on the Cat-II all in all. Chuck focuses on that rather than letting her annoyance with everyone else rise back to the surface.

A few minutes later the shape of another Jaeger becomes clear on the horizon. Because apparently everyone thinks it’s better to be on the safe side and make it a double drop rather than taking any risks. Which is bullshit and Chuck eyes the Chinese Mark-4 with indignation. The Weis have notched up a kill already but, like a lot of the other Rangers, she’s sure they’re planning on adding another one here.

Not on her damn watch.

 _Stay focused._ The warning isn’t softened for being inside their headspace rather than out loud where it'd need to be nothing but businesslike.

Instinctively she bristles but quickly pushes it down. There’s no point arguing, that’d just undermine her point.

Typhoon’s pilots don’t try to engage them in any sort of conversation, which is just fine by her, so it turns back into a boring sort of waiting game. There’s plenty of time to set up position and reflect on just how much people have been overblowing this. Business as usual, nothing special. Not yet anyway.

Just to be helpful, the Kaiju - Ratusmata - becomes visible long before it gets into range. No sneak attacks here. And damn is it an ugly one. Like a spider had sex with a fish and then the result got half run over by a truck. Even the most dedicated of Kaiju groupies is going to struggle to turn this into something cute. Well, the ones outside of Japan are going to struggle anyway.

In her periphery she's aware of Typhoon falling into a ready stance, its three arms shifting, the Mark-4 gearing up for the moment the target swims into the shallower waters. From the looks of it, that’s one Ranger team who haven’t been thrown off by all the shit lately. Too bad they aren’t going to be winning this one.

Though she wants to go straight for it Chuck momentarily wonders if he'll want to hold back, for the sake of caution and all that. But they've always been more alike than that, and before it even hits the shallows Striker is moving. The Kaiju barely gets its head up before their first punch knocks it back, fist connecting with a rush of visceral satisfaction better than almost any before it. It gives her the sort of release that she’s been waiting for.

This won’t take long.

While the Mark-4 isn’t quite as fast as them it’s still pretty agile, getting in on the action and promptly delivering a fierce kick to the Kaiju’s skull. Between them they don’t give it any breathing room, Typhoon soon breaking out its saw blades and slicing deep gouges into its thick skin. About half of its eyes are gone by the time it manages to make a dash back towards the deeper waters of the Pacific. As if there was any doubt that it wasn’t ever going to make it to land.

Dumb monster.

Chuck almost doesn’t want to put it out of its misery, to let it suffer more, but all the same she wants this kill. Wants it quick, before the Chinese Jaeger can get any ideas about using its plasmacaster or anything. All it takes is a second to adjust their footing and…

A full salvo of K-Stunners bombards the Kaiju, stopping it in its tracks as fresh holes erupt in its flesh. There’s one last thrash and it ceases movement, no twitching to provoke any itchy trigger fingers, and then it's just another useless corpse bobbing on the waves.

_Easy._

She doesn’t try to keep her savage surge of pride to herself, it’s too much to contain because fucking _finally_. Proof. Absolute concrete proof that she is up to this. And she barely even broke a sweat.

But… past the initial rush she finds herself feeling... empty. That satisfaction rapidly washes away because it’s not enough, is it? Not really. One Kaiju, anyone could do that, that doesn’t prove anything.

 _You really think you’re that irreplaceable?_ Bauer’s voice comes back to her even as she pushes it furiously away. Not now. Not here.

Something shifts in the feel of Herc’s thoughts but he doesn’t try to chase it so he probably only caught a vague sense of it rather than the clear memory. It’s enough of a warning for her to get back on top of it, counting the seconds instead to keep her mind as clear as possible. Certainly not the way she’d expected to celebrate.

-

She’s tetchier than usual by the time they get back to Sydney and she can finally get free of the rig. Having to just hang still for so long after the adrenaline of the drop doesn’t do wonders for the mood. Nor does having to try and keep it all in, knowing that another stray thought will most likely be enough to get him on her case.

Having this first official kill to her name should make her happy. But it's ended up sour and Chuck realises it was stupid to believe that just doing this one thing would be enough to change anything. Everyone's still going to doubt her after this. Because maybe it was just a fluke, this was just a Cat-II and what's to say that it isn't just Herc doing all the real work.

It’s not enough. She has to be better, do more. Prove it over and over until it's clear beyond a shadow of a doubt. And even then it probably won't be enough.

Although the neural handshake's broken now the echo of it is apparently more than enough for the tone of her mood to carry across. Not that the aggressive way she pulls herself out of the restraints does anything to really hide it.

 _What happened to loosening up?_ His thought is so clear, as if their connection hasn't lessened in the least.

Much as her skin feels wrong and her instincts urge her to get some of that closeness back Chuck's frustration makes it easy enough to ignore that. After all, it's not like she's really earnt it.

But her attempt to leave the Conn-Pod as soon as possible gets cut off pretty easily, naturally. Somehow he's still quicker than her at moving around in a Drivesuit, stepping right into her way and giving her one of those looks.

'I heard that.'

Shit. Although she shakes her head the damage is already done. Stupid hangover. 'It doesn't matter.'

'Yes it does.' Herc reaches out, knowing that if he gets hold of her it'll be a lot easier to get an answer out of her.

In a wonderful display of timing that’s when someone releases the door, the hiss of pressure giving her enough of a distraction to slip out of his reach. Of course, it’s only putting off the inevitable. Even if she could somehow avoid him for the rest of the day it wouldn’t be enough to make him forget. He’s stubborn like that and more patient than she is to boot. But she’ll be damned if she does that shit here.

After all, he can’t try to pick the matter back up while they’re getting changed. No matter how much he might want to push her for an answer he knows better than to do it when they’re not properly alone. Not least because he can’t really use any underhanded tactics that way.

In a way, it’s almost funny how everyone else seems to have relaxed now while she’s the one who’s on edge. There’s a couple of pats on the back and she manages a stiff sort of nod in response, even though she barely takes them in. Maybe the words aren’t hollow but they certainly feel it.

Herc’s done first this time, heading out the door with a backwards glance. It’s just for appearances’ sake, though, she knows that he’s just going to wait outside. Sometimes it feels better to pretend that she isn’t quite so clingy after every Drift. Even if there’s no reason for anyone to think that it’s stopped being platonic - not that it ever really was in the first place - it’s still a good idea not to give everyone extra fuel for speculation.

Wishing she could just skip over the inevitable, Chuck shoots one last longing look in the direction of Striker and heads off. Why does everyone else have to make things so much more complicated than they need to be? Why is nothing ever enough?

As expected, he’s right there the moment she steps out into the corridor and the phantom pull wars with the thoughts in her head. While she freezes in indecision he steps closer, certain, and slides an arm around her shoulders.

Instantly she feels more at ease, melting into the contact with something a little too close to a sigh. It’s only a small gesture, nothing embarrassing if she can just resist the urge to plaster herself against him and keep her composure. This doesn’t mean she’s going to talk, though.

It’s a good thing their quarters aren’t all that far away, because it’s still kind of embarrassing to be seen getting shepherded around like this. No matter how much she may like it deep down, or wish there didn’t always have to be this worry about how much affection is appropriate around anyone else.

But as soon as they’re in private Chuck shrugs him off again, mentally gearing up for the interrogation even as she edges towards the relative safety of the bathroom.

‘What happened, sweetheart?'

‘Nothing.’ Lying to him is a gamble at the best of times so when there’s still a hangover from the Drift it’s basically pointless. Chuck’s nothing if not stubborn, though. ‘Seriously, stop worrying.'

‘I’m allowed to worry.’ While Herc can't head her off this time he still edges closer, like he’s the one who craves physical contact like it’s a damn drug. 'Especially when I know something’s wrong.'

Just because he knows something's off that doesn't mean she should tell him more. There's a big difference between suspecting and knowing it for sure; one is so much worse than the other. It’s not like he doesn’t already doubt her, after all.

‘Can’t you just trust me?'

That snaps something, gives away too much, because the next thing she knows he’s tugging her closer and folding her into a hug. Her eyes are suddenly wet and why the fuck is she crying?

More than just the feel of his arms tight around her, there's this familiar sense of calm brushing against her thoughts. ‘It’s okay...'

It's not okay. Chuck doesn't want this weakness, she doesn't want to give him more reason to doubt her. Why can't she just stay on top of this?

Her fingers dig into his shirt as she tries to pull herself back from the edge. It's a losing battle, though, and his gentle encouragement coaxes the confession out of her. ‘Everyone doubts me.'

Saying it doesn't make her feel any better, if anything it just makes the words crystallise and sound even more obvious. Because why shouldn't they? It feels weak to admit it, like she's accepting that there's nothing she can do to change it. _'Go crying to your daddy.'_ She shouldn't need his reassurance, she should be strong enough on her own.

'I don't doubt you.'

He's telling the truth, the hangover doesn't leave any room to mistake it for anything else, but all the same the doubt won't go away. It's disorientating being so sure of the two completely opposing things at once, making her lean more heavily against him.

'Where's all this coming from?'

'It doesn't matter.'

Though she muffles it against his shirt he still hears her. 'It's upsetting you, it matters.'

'I'm not-' Chuck catches herself, the protest sounding unconvincing even to her. So she takes a steadying breath and tries again. ‘The Commander was just being shitty, that's all.'

Unsurprisingly that provokes a tangible surge of anger. Exactly the reason she shouldn't have mentioned this. 'What's he been saying to you?'

It's like picking at a loose thread, pull enough and the entire thing starts to unravel. If she tells him one thing then he'll want to know why and further and further until she's explained the whole thing from start to finish. And if she starts now she won't be able to hold any of it back, for better of worse.

Besides, this is exactly what Bauer expected her to do. Because they all know that her dad would be quite prepared to go on the warpath over this. And there's no real use in that.

Picking up on her hesitation Herc adds a caution; 'And don't you dare tell me it was "nothing".'

He knows her too well.

This isn't going to go away, that much is clear. So really Chuck ought not to fight this. After all, trust goes both ways. Even if this is only going to cause more trouble than it's worth.

Making herself more comfortable against him, cuddling closer as if that'll make it easier, she sighs. 'He was twisting my arm about seeing the shrink.'

‘So he threatened to ground you.’ It’s not a question, it wasn’t hard to jump to the right conclusion. ‘Damn it, he doesn’t have any right to keep treating you like this.'

While it's nice to hear that it's not strictly true. She may not like him and Bauer may go about things in the most dickish way possible but this is still his Shatterdome for a reason. And she's...

A hand tilts her chin up, encouraging eye contact. ‘You’re not replaceable.'

‘You have to say that.’ Her head shakes before she really thinks about it. Even if their relationship was less than it is this is still the sort of thing he’d have to make a show of protesting.

‘I mean it.'

There’s a lot more in the words that goes unsaid. But he doesn’t need to, not really. Even though it’s only the hangover left now it's more than enough for the feelings to carry over. And it doesn’t matter if she deserves it or not, there’s no denying that this is what he truly feels.

Words won’t express everything she wants to so Chuck pulls him into a kiss. Although it feels like an inevitable culmination, recapturing some of the intoxicating intimacy of the Drift, there's no heat in it.

Even when tongues get involved it stays slow. There's no urgency, just the reaffirmation of what he's already told her. It's soothing, driving the thoughts out of her mind and letting her focus only on the here and now. This is definitely better than any other form of therapy she’s been stuck with over the years.

Still, they’ve both been on their feet for hours now, and she’d kind of like to just keep doing this for a while. So, she twists her hands tighter in his shirt and tugs him towards the bed. Fortunately, he ducks enough to avoid hitting the upper bunk, but once again she really wishes they could just have a double and be done with it. Not that they ever can, of course, unless they want the truth to come out.

Herc doesn’t ask anything again, not out loud. That doesn’t mean she can’t feel the worry in the lingering echo of his thoughts, though. But she knows that it’s not because he's trying to catch her out, it’s only that he wants to help. And if that means some unhurried, particularly cuddly making out for now then he seems happy to go with that.

Even though they do end up with skin pressed to skin again she doesn’t feel the need to go further right now, and he respects that. Everything always seems much easier when it all shrinks back down to just the inside of these four walls.

Wrapping an arm tighter around him, anchoring herself more securely, Chuck breathes out and finally answers the question. No longer quite so afraid of what damage the admission could do. ‘They think I’m relapsing.'

From the way he stills Herc wasn’t expecting her to actually say anything unprompted like this. Which, yeah, is probably kind of surprising going on her track record. There’s a telling hesitation, like he’s weighing up the risk of setting her off, before he opts to keep it simple; ‘What do you think?'

‘No. Maybe. I don’t know.’ Honestly she feels less sure about the answer the more she thinks about it. Because if she was really fine she probably wouldn’t have started crying about all this, would she? And maybe that’s his thoughts rubbing off on her, but it makes sense, at least for the time being.

‘Then it can't hurt to talk, can it?'

She shakes her head, nobody ever gets this part. It’s hard to see what good talking’s going to do, seeing as the only therapy that’s ever seemed to work for her was hitting things. ‘They don’t listen, not really.'

Trailing fingers down her spine, in one of those comforting gestures he’d rapidly picked back up, he makes a sympathetic noise. Unlike some, he doesn’t outright tell her she’s being paranoid, which makes for a nice change. ‘Tell you what, give it one more chance and if they don’t listen then I’ll talk to them.'

The idea of getting him to intervene doesn’t massively appeal. After all, Chuck’s trying to get away from the accusations that she needs her dad to solve her problems for her. That she’s only here because of him. Even when, yes, she is. But not in that way.

Still, she doesn’t especially relish the thought of going through however many more hours of being prodded that it’ll take to convince the shrink to drop this. ‘One more chance.'

The concession clearly pleases him, earning her an extra squeeze. That's enough to make it worth it, because if she's making him worry that's no damn good. And even if it’s not messing with her ability to pilot she does owe it to him to try and sort her head out a bit more.

Some of the warmth of the moment is lost, though, when he decides to start pulling away far too soon. 'Now, there's somewhere else we need to be.'

Chuck doesn't have to ask to know what he means but that doesn't make her any less adverse to the idea of going anywhere. 'Really?'

Rather than doing what she wants - and is endeavouring to mentally project at him - Herc swings his legs over the side of the bed, giving her a soft shove as he goes. 'We have to put in an appearance, love. Besides, you didn't get to properly appreciate it last time.'

Well, yeah, just not in the way he's thinking. Pep talk or not she’s not exactly keen on being around other people at the moment, because the last thing she needs is to give Bauer a fresh chance to shit on her mood. Although... she wonders if there might not be a chance to smuggle a beer off someone, given what she's heard about previous post-kilI shindigs in the Dome. She’s certainly got a better chance of getting away with that here rather than in Manila, underage or not.

The suddenly reduced resistance tips him off all too easily, shooting her a warning look as he pulls his shirt back on. But he doesn't even try to play hard this time. 'One. That’s all.'

Of course Chuck knows full well that it’d be a bad idea to overindulge here, coupled with the Drift hangover that'd just be asking for trouble. That doesn’t mean she can’t see his ruling as a challenge. It shouldn’t be hard to convince him not to stick to that, so long as she says please in _just_ the right way. Really he'll only have himself to blame for anything that comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Striker's first official kill, finally!
> 
> Now, to be perfectly honest, these last few months I've been burning out in a pretty big way. It’s made things harder and I’m sorry for the detrimental impact it’s had on this fic. That said, I feel like I'm getting on top of things again now so - fingers crossed - we should be able to get back to a more regular schedule from here.
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that there's now a final chapter count up. Seeing as we're at the two-thirds mark it doesn't seem quite so bad to admit to it. ^^; So, the end's in sight, albeit still a little bit distant.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for stopping by and for bearing with me, awesome people.


	39. Under Duress

But after the initial buzz dies down things still aren’t quite the same. It's hard to argue with results like that, which naturally means that the increasingly vocal faction of doubters does just that. So, because an easy Kaiju kill isn’t quite enough to shut some people up, the higher ups decide that they need to go on more of a charm offensive. Which may not convince everyone but should at least solidify the support they already have. At least that’s how it’s explained to her.

Seeing as the fifth anniversary of Brawler Yukon’s launch is just around the corner they roll with that, turning it into a big song and dance about exactly what good the Jaegers have done. Maybe Chuck wouldn’t think it was such a bad idea if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s getting dragged into it, and just what _it_ is...

‘How about this one?'

Reflexively her eyes narrow at the hanger that Mako’s pulled off the rack. It’s blue thing with lacy shoulders which would probably suit her friend better, the right sort of shade to compliment the streaks she's added to her hair. Admittedly the other girl is pretty good at picking out the _least_ objectionable options from amongst the rest of the crap, but just because it’s not the worst thing doesn’t mean she has any interest in wearing it.

‘Too short.'

Knowing to choose her battles carefully, Mako puts it back and moves on to the next rack. But not without a slightly frustrated shake of her head first. They’ve been at this for well over an hour now. ‘You have to pick something, you know.'

Resolutely refusing to do any browsing herself, Chuck crosses her arms tighter and glares at the nearest mannequin. ‘I didn’t become a Ranger to play dress up.'

‘Of course not, but this is what the Program needs right now.’ She’s gotten good at shrugging the objections off, still focused on the futile search.

Fortunately with her friend’s back turned she’s free to roll her eyes at that nonsense. ‘What the Program _needs_ is a commitment to build the next Jaeger already.’

‘Which could come after tonight.'

‘Right, because making an idiot of myself is really going to convince some stuffy suits to pull their fingers out.'

Honestly, Chuck would’ve been more than happy to hole up in the hotel room and wait this stupid thing out. The main reason she’d even agreed to this was because it gave her a chance to spend some time with Mako again. Which in retrospect was a fool’s move and she should’ve put her foot down while she had the chance.

After all, surely this is just going to remind everyone that she’s really nothing but a fragile teenage girl?

‘So long as you don’t glare at everyone you’ll be fine.’ Mako’s time for lengthy reassurances has long since past. Just to rub it in, she holds up another one, a long black thing. 'This might work.'

The dark colour might be appropriate for her mood but that doesn’t stop her shaking her head again. Even if it might help her to blend into the background she doesn’t like the idea of looking all grim and depressing. This would be so much easier if they’d just gone with dress uniforms, what else are those things for if not for pain in the ass functions like this?

Really it’s a hopeless search, and Chuck’s pretty much at the point of just giving up and going with the next option her friend comes up with. It’s not as if there’s going to be one that she actually likes. If nothing else it’s better that Mako’s here, if she'd had to do this by herself something would’ve been destroyed by now.

There had been a moment where she’d thought her dad was going to offer to tag along, but somehow she thinks that would’ve been a lot worse.

‘Well, that's everything here.’ Getting to the end of the final rack, showing little sign of defeat, Mako leads the way to the door and from there onto the next shop.

Glad to be out of there, even if she’s just going to get pulled into another equally tedious place, Chuck readjusts her baseball cap to deal with the glare of the sun. She’d applied sunblock first thing, not that she’d needed Herc’s reminder. Would be nice if she didn’t have pretty much the most un-sun-resistant ginger complexion going, seeing as even sunburn probably wouldn’t get her out of this.

At least LA is warm, basically being at the opposite end of the spectrum to Alaska. No need for extra layers here. So, if nothing else, she does get to appreciate some good weather. Not that there’s time for much, seeing as this is little more than a flying visit for any of them. They'd arrived yesterday and are going be heading back out late tomorrow, just to have a chance to recover some sleep. None of them can really afford to be away from their posts for long, except the LA-stationed Rangers that is. Shame they aren’t doing this at the local Dome, she’d have appreciated the chance to see Romeo Blue and the others up close.

The street isn’t overly busy, just a few groups of shoppers meandering along. Chuck knows better than to catch anyone’s eye, though, mostly tuning out the other people in favour of checking out the cars that go past. Having a Shatterdome helped the city to claw back some of the appeal it lost in the early days, back when everything on the Pacific coastline suddenly seemed a lot more exposed. Still, a fair number of the better off moved inland and stayed there. As well as keeping a second home out here near the beaches.

Catching up to Mako she nudges her shoulder, wishing this wasn’t the way the day had to go. ‘Sorry I’m not the best company today.'

Even though there's still some frustration there - because yeah, they probably could've been done ages ago if she'd been more cooperative - it's clear that she's forgiven. ‘This wasn’t my first choice of what to do either.'

‘So... one last stop and we call it quits?'

‘Only if you decide on one.’ For all that Mako had gone the rebellious route and broken out the hair dye the influence of the Marshal is still obvious. Even if her sternness is a lot less intimidating than his.

‘Fine.’ The next one that she doesn’t outright hate will have to do. It's safe to say that Chuck’s not setting foot in another clothes shop for at least a year after this.

This whole thing really isn't giving her the most positive impression of the city either, shame that she couldn't see the place under better circumstances. She’s about to follow Mako into what she's determined _will_ be the last stop when something that can only be described as a squeal stops her in her tracks.

‘Oh my god, it really _is_ you!'

If it weren’t for the fact that the voice is coming from right behind her Chuck might have been inclined to think that it was someone else being recognised. But one of the problems with having worn the hat so much is that it makes it that little bit easier for passers-by to recognise her even out of the Drivesuit. Hours of training keep her from just ignoring it like she almost wants to, that and Herc’s been a good influence in _some_ ways.

So she turns, hoping that this isn’t going to turn into a scene, and aims for a sort of friendly; ‘Hi?'

Apparently it’s fine, judging by the way the trio of kids are all still practically bouncing off the pavement. One of the girls is wearing an LA Shatterdome t-shirt while the boy has a pair of Romeo Blue trainers on; solid confirmation that these are fans. They can’t be more than a couple of years younger than her, though; harmless.

‘I knew it had to be you! Owen said it couldn’t be but I could recognise you anywhere!’ The girl in the Shatterdome t-shirt is clearly the leader and an enthusiastic one at that. ‘You’re my favourite Jaeger pilot!'

To her horror, Chuck can feel herself starting to blush. It’s… nice to hear that but at the same it’s a lot more enthusiasm than she’s used to. Usually Herc’s the one getting the bulk of the attention in these sorts of situations. What’s she even supposed to say to that? ‘Thanks?'

‘What’re you doing here?’ Owen - was it? - comes to her rescue, sort of. Even if he doesn’t sound like he’s accusing her of anything, just curious.

‘Official... business.’ Suddenly she’s very conscious of the shop she’d been about to step into. There’s definitely more important things she could be doing with her time, without a doubt.

Not bothered by her seeming dereliction of duty, the leader digs out paper and a pen - bizarrely prepared - and holds it up. ‘Oh, could I have an autograph?'

‘And a picture?’ The second girl finally chimes in, looking as if the question was the most terrifying thing in the world to say.

Even though she's not all that good at this Chuck can't really say no to that. Not least because she gets the feeling that one of them wouldn't be beyond following her if she tried it. 'Sure.'

After she’s scribbled on half a dozen bits of paper, been asked about thirty questions about the Program and what other pilots are like and gone through every combination for pictures the trio reluctantly say their goodbyes. Well, the boy drags off her self-proclaimed biggest fan by the shirt to keep her from coming back with another question. The shy one has her attention glued back to her screen, meanwhile.

Chuck watches them go for a minute, before finally taking her chance to duck into the damn shop. At least standing around looking at dresses is a little bit less intense than that. Still, it’s good to be reminded that not everyone needs to be convinced about the value of the Program over and over.

Although Mako hasn’t wasted any time carrying on without her she still gives her a proud sort of smile. She doesn’t say anything about it, but then she doesn’t really have to. Instead, she holds up two options, straight back to business. ‘What do you think?'

In spite of her own resolution, her gut reaction is negative, as per usual. The first looks far too flimsy and floaty for her liking, but… the other one is a reassuring sort of khaki, with a high neckline and pretty minimal fuss, aside from the way one side of the skirt is longer than the other. Definitely not awful, especially not in comparison.

Some sort of approval must show through because Mako promptly dismisses the other one and hands her the chosen hanger, not even trying to hide her relief. ‘Perfect.'

Maybe she’s just glad that they can finally stop traipsing around boring clothes shops, but either way, it doesn’t matter. Chuck would still rather wear almost anything else to this shindig but maybe this one wouldn’t be so bad.

-

Several hours later she’s begun to really regret ever thinking that. Twisting to get a better angle in the mirror and grimacing, Chuck considers whether she could get away with pushing Mako out of the room and locking herself in for the rest of the night. Because it’s bad. So bad. If there was a Serizawa scale for badness this would be a straight category ten.

Why did she ever agree to this?

‘It looks good.'

That doesn’t convince her any more than the previous dozen or so times she’s heard it. Because Mako’s hardly going to be honest about this, not when the Marshal considers it so important that both Mark-5 pilots are present tonight.

It’s a lot more… clingy than she realised, being form-hugging in exactly the place she would rather it wasn’t. Besides, she feels far too… exposed, toying with the idea of fighting Mako to get back her confiscated pair of shorts. In the privacy of her own thoughts she can admit that, yeah, the material’s sort of nice and it _is_ kind of comfy in some ways, but as far as anyone else needs to know there are zero redeeming features.

‘No.’ Why did _anyone_ think this was a good idea?

‘You just aren’t used to it, that’s all.’ At another time that sort of logic might have worked, but not here and now.

‘No kidding.’ She can barely remember the last time she ever wore anything this girly, though she does remember plenty of times that she’d kicked off over the threat of it. ‘And there was a damn good reason for that.'

‘You’ve fought Kaiju, this isn’t so bad.'

Except fighting Kaiju is what she's good at, not this schmoozing crap. Yes, if this is really the only way to shut people up, then of course Chuck’s going to do it. But that doesn’t mean she has to like it. At all.

Gritting her teeth, she resists the urge to give her ass another look in the mirror to rifle through her wash bag. ‘Whatever. At least it won’t be my bad idea when it goes horribly wrong.'

Mako doesn’t bother to argue the point, merely shaking her head and giving off that familiar sense of disapproval. At a guess, she’d probably say something about how she needs to put the effort in to make sure that it doesn’t go wrong, rather than being ready to instantly write it off. Which would be a valid point, if not one that Chuck’s particularly in the mood to hear right now. After all, if she’s going to be on good behaviour for the rest of the night then she really needs to get her annoyance out now.

Especially because she hasn’t even dealt with the trickiest bit yet. Somehow, through no real intention on her part, Winchester had decided that one accepted olive branch means that the two of them are friends or something. Which is still weird, because the head tech is Herc’s friend first and that patronising treatment hasn’t entirely gone away. That and the woman had just _leapt_ on this opportunity to give her another tutorial. By luring her in with the promise of looking at some new specs, no less.

But, well, she might as well go all in if she’s doing it at all.

Naturally Mako raises an eyebrow when she pulls out her supplies. Which yeah, she had always said she’d rather clean all the toilets in the Academy than waste time on this sort of stuff. But this is for the Program, isn’t it, so some extra effort shouldn’t be entirely surprising. Even if she _has_ been complaining about that sort of thing most of the day.

Still, Chuck’s instinctively a little defensive to be on the receiving end of that look. ‘What?'

Mako isn't even slightly fazed by it, refusing to let her deflect. ‘Where did that come from?'

‘Winchester; she’s trying to be pally.’ It’s good she can just shrug it off with such an easy, and half-true, excuse; because there is no way she can explain just why the woman decided to start supplying her with makeup.

‘Are you finally admitting she’s not a threat?’

That feels like it was such a long time ago. She’d been pretty obvious about her jealousy back then, hadn’t she? But these days she can see that there was never any possibility of that happening. The woman’s not so bad, even if she is still trying a little too hard sometimes.

‘I guess.'

Even though she makes a point of turning back to the mirror that doesn’t mean Chuck can’t tell that she’s being evaluated. Unfortunately, Mako’s a little too canny, so she can probably guess that there’s something more to this that she isn’t being told.

Luckily she doesn’t seem to notice that one tube is already half-empty, or try to call her on the fact that she’s probably a little more practised at it than she really should be. Although her much less assured use of the eyeliner at least goes some way to balancing that out.

While they were careful not to leave any obvious marks recently, just to be on the safe side for this trip into hostile waters, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit hopeful that maybe it’ll come in handy after tonight. Honestly, that’s a big part of the reason that she’s willing to try just a little harder for this stupid ass function. Because really, there's only one reaction she's interested in seeing.

Not wanting to give her friend the chance to think too hard about it, Chuck goes for the first subject she can think of. ‘So, you never did tell me how the Marshal reacted to you hitting the blue hair phase.'

As expected, that makes her clam right up. It’s not hard to imagine her apologising half a dozen times as soon as he’d shown the first sign of disapproval. ‘I think… it was a surprise.'

That’s probably an understatement, not that Mako seems to be in any hurry to fill in the rest of the story. Maybe this will have made him realise the fact that his daughter is old enough to make her own decisions. Chuck doubts it. Who knows what it could take to get the Marshal to stop wrapping her in cotton wool and let her fight like she's clearly ready to.

‘Good.’ Now isn’t the time for rehashing that whole argument, but she can’t resist a small push. 'He needs reminding that you’re not a kid anymore.'

‘Sensei knows that.’ Of course, she leaps to his defence, against the smallest slight. Still not fighting his bullshit decision like she needs to. ‘When the time is right I will get my chance.'

Except who knows when that will even be now. Even with the larger gaps between the Mark-4s, and then Striker, this is still the longest they’ve gone without producing a new Jaeger. Chuck just hopes that tonight will wake people the fuck up again. The Kaiju are still coming, this isn’t the time to take their eyes off the ball.

‘You’d better.’ Although this could easily turn into another victory-less argument, she lets the moment pass, instead focusing on trying to finish up the last of the application. It’s not like they have all that much longer before they have to be down there.

Leaning back, she inspects her handiwork, trying not to pull any faces because those only make it look worse than it really is according to Winchester. Instinctively she feels like it looks wrong, that it's obvious she’s trying to be something she’s really just not. So she gives in and grimaces, tugging a hand through her hair as if that might somehow make this any better.

‘Shit...'

‘Let me see.’ Taking her by the shoulders Mako pulls her round, already ignoring her opinion in favour of getting a better look herself. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I feel stupid.’ Averting her eyes, Chuck crosses her arms and does just about everything she can to emphasise the negatives of how she looks right now. ‘Nobody’s ever going to take me seriously after this.'

‘Of course they will, you’re a Ranger.'

True, even if she doesn’t entirely feel like it right now. All she needs to do is remember to bite her tongue, resist the urge to punch anyone and make sure she doesn’t trip over herself. At least she got away with flats, nobody was stupid enough to try making her deal with heels on top of everything else. Focus on the positives.

‘Sure.’ It’s less assured than she’d like to admit and they both know it. 'You should probably get going anyway, I’ll see you down there.'

‘Remember, if I don’t I’ll know where you’re hiding.’ With that threat Mako sees herself out, shutting the bathroom door behind her and exchanging a brief acknowledgement with Herc on her way.

Really Chuck should be making a move herself, considering how long she’s been in here now, but she still needs a minute. If killing a Kaiju isn’t enough to convince these idiots then her winning personality is hardly going to cut it. She’s bad with people at the best of times, much less so when she’s uncomfortable and completely out of place. Ask her to punch something - or someone - and let her prove her worth that way.

Except this isn’t just about her. This is about the Program and making sure that the suits in charge of the funding don’t decide that the press has a point. It’s just one night, but it could mean a lot more in terms of the bigger picture. All she really has to do is be there and not offend anyone, which is admittedly easier said than done but nothing she hasn’t endured before.

Still, if Herc reacts badly then she is not beyond shutting herself in this bathroom for the rest of the night. Or saying fuck it and changing into something better. Not that she exactly has any other real options, but that’s beside the point.

Right on cue - as if he can sense her hesitation - there's a tap on the door. ‘Ready?'

Honestly? ‘Depends how you define “ready".'

There’s a deliberate hesitation before he answers that. ‘I’d say dressed.'

Ignoring the lovely thoughts that puts in her head she reluctantly pulls the door open. ‘Well, in that case, sure...'

Rather unsurprisingly Herc is right there waiting for her and she steps back on pure reflex. That said, seeing him is actually a pretty good distraction from the train wreck that she is. Obviously, she knows that he can look stupidly attractive in pretty much anything - or, better yet, nothing - but damn he looks good in a suit. It’s just unfair, really, and her words kind of disappear for a second.

At least that’s one good thing that’s come out of this whole fiasco.

Even if he’s being suspiciously quiet himself.

Crossing her arms, if just to avoid the temptation of reaching for the handle, Chuck tears herself away from admiring him to focus on the real problem at hand. Though she does at least aim for lighthearted; ‘It’s that bad, huh?'

'Very bad.' His smile is reassuring, if slightly predatory, especially as he closes the already limited gap between them. ‘How am I supposed to wait all night to get you out of that?'

Good question. Quite possibly that’s the most sensible thing anyone has said to her all day and the mere suggestion gets right under her skin. It’s pretty much the best reaction Chuck could have hoped for; not bad.

She’d be more than happy to skip straight to that, except it would be quite suspicious if they didn’t show up. While the Marshal likely wouldn’t be surprised by her absence it would be pretty out of character for Herc to bail on something like this as well. And then someone would come to find them and spoil it all anyway, even if they didn’t manage to figure the truth out.

But a quick kiss wouldn’t hurt. Just enough to tide them both over.

Though it’s not really so quick in the end, turning far more heated than is strictly good for them as his hands start to wander... So maybe she might consider trying this again sometime if this is how she’s rewarded.

Reluctantly she pulls away when they break for air, sliding her leg down from where it’d somehow gotten hooked around him, out of breath but feeling much more relaxed. ‘Fraid you’re going to have to hold that thought.'

‘Oh, I will.'

Chuck’s not sure if that promise is ominous or not. In some ways she thinks she might have just made this whole thing more frustrating for the both of them. But then, the best things do come to those that wait, don’t they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably weren’t expecting that, no? Promise, there is a point to this; a point that isn’t _purely_ smut.
> 
> Also, for anyone that remembers, way back when in chapter 22 I mentioned my laptop dying and taking a chunk of my writing with it. Well, that was this chapter, or at least its first draft anyway ^^;


	40. Foxtrot Tango

Fortunately, they don’t run into anyone on the short walk to the lift, though that doesn’t really do much to ease her doubts about this whole thing. That and it means there’s nothing to stop them ending up right back in each other’s personal space once the doors slide shut.

‘How soon d’you think we could get away with calling it a night?’

‘Not for a couple hours at least.'

Even though that’s the sort of answer she was expecting it’s still not what she wanted to hear. And seeing as this is pretty much her last chance to openly express herself for who knows how long, Chuck doesn’t try to hold back her frown. ‘I still think this is bullshit.'

‘It’s what we have to do.’ Edging that little bit closer, Herc lowers his voice conspiratorially, a hand trailing down her spine. ‘Besides, it’s not all bad.'

It’s tempting but she’s keenly aware of the fact that the lift has just stopped. Not to mention that this is a far more public, and potentially hostile, place than the Dome. So she gives him a firm but lingering push back. ‘Keep telling yourself that.'

Before she can think better of it or give herself a chance to reconsider Chuck slips out into the lobby, quietly pleased that her mobility hasn’t been all that impaired. Not that she goes far, having zero intention of enduring any of this on her own. Never know when some asshole might pop up. Normally she’d be a little wary because she knows her own tendency to rise to the slightest bait, but this time it’s more that she still feels rather more exposed than she’s happy with.

While there’s a Shatterdome not much more than a stone’s throw away the PR department naturally wanted a more upmarket setting for this shindig. Which is why they’re in this swanky hotel instead. It’s easily the fanciest building she’s ever been in, with all the glass and a bonafide ballroom. All this effort they’re going to… She just hopes it’s worth it.

Still, if they’d stayed in the local Dome then there wouldn’t be a nice, soft queen-sized bed to enjoy later. Well, their room has two beds, as usual, but it’s pretty damn doubtful that they’re going to do anything with the second one. Especially seeing as they should probably be trying not to make too much mess, what with the risk of the cleaners asking questions.

Worse, judging by the sounds of it the turnout has already been fairly decent, even though the pair of them aren’t even late. This isn’t a small occasion, she’s hardly going to be able to avoid having to engage in some inane socialising. Not to mention PR department's other bright idea...

‘Relax.’ Naturally, Herc can tell just how much of her prickliness is the result of discomfort, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a sort of casual half-hug. ‘And maybe try not to threaten anyone, okay?'

‘So long as nobody tries anything stupid, sure.’ Chuck won’t let onto any unease in there, she knows better than that. Though she wishes there wasn’t quite such a fine line to tread when it comes to dealing with this sort of people.

Someone snorts, loudly. ‘That would be the day.'

Even without the telltale Russian accent she’d have recognised the pair that has just emerged from another lift. The Kaidanovskies, pilots of Cherno Alpha. Not that she would’ve ever expected to see these two in formal wear, even if it does nothing to detract from the intimidating aura they exude. Nobody would question them, not if they valued their private parts anyway.

Walking past with the smallest nod of acknowledgement, Sasha adds; ‘The ones with the most influence are usually the most stupid ones.'

Apparently, introductions aren’t something those two have any interest in, although by now they must be more than used to their reputation preceding them. It’s funny, even if they’ve never directly met active Rangers tend to act like they already know each other. Anyone would have to be pretty self-absorbed to not have at least some idea of the other pilots, especially considering that only two Jaegers launched last year. Still, there’s something a little disconcerting about it.

And maybe she was imagining the knowing look that the Russian shot at them but Herc had still stepped back like that didn’t make it look more guilty.

‘Come on then, the sooner it starts the sooner it’s over.'

Herc leads the way and she follows one step behind him, keeping her eyes dutifully elsewhere. The ballroom is a pretty decent size, able to accommodate a few hundred people; a mix of politicians, diplomats, PPDC officials, journos and wealthy snobs. Not to mention the handful of Rangers that’ve been dragged into this, with most of the Shatterdomes short-staffed by this thing. Not a single uniform in sight, naturally, although that does nothing to make her feel any less out of place.

Right away Chuck decides that she preferred the faff of the launch ceremony to this, though it’s not the first time she’s come to the same conclusion. There’s less military etiquette to fall back on, just lots of standing around pretending not to be bored.

At the first opportunity she decides to try her luck with the bar, only partly basing that on the fact that there’s a definite lack of assholes in that particular corner. Maybe if Mako wasn't sticking so close to the Marshal she'd head her way instead but getting a drink would be a happy alternative. After all, while it might not be the best idea for her to get cornered on her own - because she’s bound to say something wrong - it’s probably good not to stay glued to Herc’s shadow all night long.

‘Don’t get lost.’ Though he doesn’t try to stop her going she can still feel his eyes on her back. Maybe he’s worried that she’s going to make a break for the exit. As if she could leave him in the lurch like that.

She’s always been pretty good at blanking people so Chuck manages to weave her way over to the relative safety of the bar without having to deal with even one insincere slimeball. Though her satisfaction at that proves to be short-lived when the bartender refuses to give her anything but water, in spite of her very good arguments to the contrary.

What more did she expect? Here more than usual she’s not going to get away with not being recognised as underage. One of the major drawbacks of being who she is, even if she thinks she could probably pass as older if given the chance. Not that they’re actually serving anything that good here but anything remotely alcoholic would’ve been welcome.

Even though she doesn’t particularly want to give up and accept the water at least having some sort of drink in hand gives her a way to dodge some talking. That doesn’t stop her taking it with a disgruntled mutter; ‘Wanker.'

‘Only water? Ouch.'

Shit, so much for this corner being a safe haven. At a glance it’s hard to guess exactly what the guy that’s snuck up on her does, though it’s a good bet that he isn’t military judging by the look of him.

While the comment’s probably meant in a sympathetic way she can’t help bristling just a little. ‘Water’s important.'

‘Of course. But you’d think a hero like you would merit a little special treatment.’ Just to rub it in he sips from his own glass like a tool.

The acknowledgement might be nice, coming from someone else. Or maybe not, considering Chuck’s opinion of the large majority of the people in this room. It feels like there’s a sting in the tail coming. Even if, yeah, she would like something stronger. Especially now that she’s faced with this twat. ‘I can get through a night without, thanks.'

‘Shame, seems like you could do with some loosening up.'

Any benefit of the doubt she was willing to give this guy instantly evaporates, because there is something far too unpleasant about the way he says that. Like loosening up is at all the point of any of them being here. This was all such a bad idea, but at least having one hand occupied by her stupid water helps to keep any wishful thoughts of throwing a punch at bay.

‘For all you know I’m a violent drunk.'

Apparently, Chuck doesn’t deliver that right because the asshole laughs, like a Ranger being violent is the silliest idea he’s heard today. What is it with people at these things and thinking that someone who’s now actually killed a Kaiju is less than serious?

She’s about half a second away from going ahead and asking the question, just to see what sort of bullshit answer she gets. Right up until a familiar blonde steps around the guy, completely ignoring him and levelling an unreadable look at her instead.

‘Come, we should talk.'

Sasha leaves no room for argument, turning on her heel and not even waiting to see if she’s being followed or not. Not that there’s really any question about it, seeing as this is probably the least painful way for Chuck to extract herself from the situation. Well, barring any entirely counterproductive methods.

Even if she would prefer to fight her own battles, though, she can acknowledge that this was probably better for everyone involved. ‘Thanks.'

‘Don’t mention it.'

The Russian seems to have no interest in gratitude, marching ahead as if she doesn't really have any desire to talk further. Which isn't surprising, given the reputation of Cherno's pilots, and at least staying in her slipstream means a clear shot through the busyness. Nobody tries to intercept either of them, even though she can still feel the burn of eyes on her.

A sort of miniature exclusion zone has also formed around Aleksis, at least partly by virtue of the fact that he towers over pretty much the entire room. Still, he gives her a sort of half-smile, offering some reassurance that maybe she isn't just a pity case. That said, he seems to be the strong silent type, his wife doing most of the - albeit limited - talking.

Sasha takes her own glass back from her co-pilot, though it seems highly unlikely that it’s water she’s drinking. ‘You deal with that a lot?'

‘You could say that.’ It was a slightly different angle than she’s encountered before, yeah, but Chuck’s getting used to dealing with this sort of shit. Even if she’s not allowed to deck the offending guy like she used to be able to.

The woman mutters something in Russian, presumably swearing, before clarifying for her benefit; ‘Respect is too much to ask.'

While it’s hard to imagine that Sasha has any real idea of what it’s like not to instantly command respect Chuck appreciates the sentiment. However, none of them are apparently big on the art of conversation, the couple exchanging a few words in Russian as she takes the opportunity to give the room another scan. There’s a few recognisable faces mixed in amongst the boring crowd; she spots one of the Gage twins doing a good job of schmoozing while the Watanabe siblings appear to be sticking together in another small huddle.

Every Ranger in the room has killed at least one Kaiju. If anyone can prove the merits of the Program it should be them. Just maybe not in the way that the PR department wants to get the message across. Why resort to politics when they already have so much concrete proof that the Program works?

Inevitably her focus is drawn back towards Herc, who is admirably disguising any impatience he’s feeling behind the professional facade. Even so, he seems to be getting increasingly restless as she watches, as if he’s worried about what trouble she might be starting or the possibility of her having slipped out already. Her stare tips him off, though, and he seems to relax again once their eyes meet across the room, him taking in that she’s not involved in any fights. Yet.

‘Vodka, straight or mixed?'

Apparently, she’s still considered to be a part of the conversation, in spite of it having continued in an entirely different language up to this point. That or the Russians like asking random questions out of nowhere. Helpfully Chuck's mind goes blank, partly thanks to the sheer unexpectedness of it and partly due to it taking a minute for her to shake off the gawking mentality.

‘Um, straight?'

That seems to pass muster, or at least it doesn’t visibly annoy Sasha anyway. But before she can find out quite what the point of the question was - whether that was some sort of test she just passed - one of the PR people braves the exclusion zone, summoning the pair.

And this is the part Chuck has been looking forward to the least. Because someone’s bright idea of how to convince these idiots that they should carry on building Jaegers and investing in the future of the Program is to have them _dance_.

Yeah, yeah, it’s a more _aesthetic_ way of displaying Drift compatibility but _seriously_. Of all the demeaning things to make them do... It’d taken Herc several tries - and some rather underhanded tactics - to get her to dignify the idea with any practice. And even then she hadn’t dropped the scowl.

At least, Chuck reasons as she makes her way back over to her dad, they aren’t going first. Or last, for that matter. There’s no particular order as far as she can tell, although there’s probably some logic involved about the tone of the various dances. The Kaidanovskies are starting things off with a relatively fast-paced number, which works surprisingly well in spite of the height difference and the fact that it's Sasha rather than her husband doing the leading.

Actually, the more she thinks about it the more she wishes they’d gone first just to get it over with. That and she can’t see her lack of finesse going down all that well. Not that she regrets limiting their practice to the bare minimum, there were more important things to be doing and it usually ended awkwardly anyway. Awkward or frustrating.

Soon enough, though, the music comes to an end as the couple finishes to a round of applause. Even though she’d spaced out a little there’s no doubt that it’s not an easy act to follow.

‘Our turn.' Herc gives her a nudge, all too quick to get moving.

Right. Time to give up the last of her dignity then. Though that doesn’t stop her taking his hand readily enough, because if nothing else at least this gives her a chance to get in some perfectly socially acceptable contact. After all, unlike sparring, holding hands is a sort of integral part of the display.

Once Chuck’s sure that anyone else is out of immediate hearing range she allows herself to grumble. ‘I didn’t sign up for this shit.'

‘No, but don’t tell me you don’t want to show them.'

Really, she has too much of a competitive streak. Most Rangers seem to. But, much as the idea of coming out on top encourages her, Chuck knows that this is one she almost certainly can’t pull off. Because they’ve had to go for a safe dance, from a combination of executive order and mutual agreement that they need to play it clean. Slow and boring and as bland as it comes.

_Just think of it like another spar._ Ha, that’s kind of bullshit. Spars aren’t meant to be quite so touchy-feely, for one thing. Fighting is something she has in her DNA, she knows how to move with her eyes closed, it’s almost like breathing. This is foreign, especially so now that she’s not in her usual slacks and such a long way from the Sydney Dome. But, unlike a spar, here she doesn’t have to fight back, she just has to follow his lead.

‘Eyes up.’

Contrary to her instinct Chuck’s not allowed to look at her feet, instead she’s meant to lock eyes with him and just let the connection flow. It’s impressive, just how easily she can forget that there’s actually anyone else in the room at all once they start to move. It feels as if all it would take if for her to reach out with her mind and she could connect to Herc's thoughts.

As far as she can tell she doesn’t make any missteps or lose the rhythm, though honestly, it all passes in a bit of a blur of motion and the warmth of his hands. Although Chuck swears that he added a dip in towards the end, responding to her lingering disgruntlement that it could be at least a bit more exciting.

Honestly, it’s a bit of a disappointment when the music ends. For all that she was wishing for it to be over and done with she rather likes being able to be this physical without any worries. So maybe she holds on a little bit longer than strictly necessary, who’s to judge?

‘See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?'

‘Whatever you say.’ Stepping back, letting go of his hand, Chuck's still quite happy to be heading off the dance floor and from there towards the end of this farce. ‘It’s a good thing the Academy stuck to the kwoon.'

That gets a genuine smile out of him, and she swears that she feels a soft pat on her ass. Only a couple more hours, that’s all she has to endure.

-

Because the world just isn't fair, however, they’re all obliged to stay right until the very end. Whereas anyone not employed to fight Kaiju gets to leave whenever they damn well please. It’s a miracle Chuck’s managed to keep herself from getting too snippy; she’s been stuck in this dress for hours and it feels like much longer.

With only a few stragglers loitering around she’s managed to find a fresh safe haven, having stolen a chair at a table with Mako and Echo Sabre’s pilots. They’re all polite enough not to just slip into Japanese, because beyond the basics she’d picked up at the Academy and the occasional anime slipped into the Dome film night she’s hardly got a handle on the language. The Watanabes are another contrasting pair; Haruka being quite reserved and polished while her younger brother is still, somehow, verging on hyperactivity and doesn’t seem to have much of a brain to mouth filter.

'I wish we could have a dog. It would be _so_ good for publicity and I've always wanted one...' Eiichi edges his seat closer to her, an urgent sort of fire in his eyes. 'You must post pictures of yours, it would be so cute, people would love it.'

While she doesn't doubt that Max would be more than happy to soak up that sort of attention it's not an idea that strikes her as a particularly good one. Even if she catches Mako's too enthusiastic agreement. Chuck swears people only make nice with her in order to get to the dog.

'I don't think so.'

'Don't say that!' He's pretty full-on, already very invested in his suggestion. Then again, from what she’s seen of him tonight he seems to be enthusiastic about virtually everything. 'It's not so scary-'

'We have talked about this, Chi-kun.' There's something in the way Haruka interjects, especially with the almost sheepish way her brother's smile wavers. Like this is the continuation of another, private conversation. It's not surprising, she'd suffered the worst backlash out of any of them.

Before anyone has the chance to clear the sudden tension in the air the Marshal arrives at the table with Herc in tow, instantly cutting off any further conversation. Chuck’s fairly certain she’s not imagining the unimpressed sort of glare that Pentecost levels at her, that quieter sort of disapproval that she’d almost started to miss. Still thinks she’s a bad influence on Mako, no doubt, especially now that at least some form of teenage rebellion has started to show itself.

‘We can call it a night now.' He seems happy enough, although as usual it's hard to tell as much from his expression alone. 'Nice work everyone.'

_Finally_. She’s easily the fastest to shoot to her feet, already mentally headed out the door. Which only earns her more of a glare, like she hasn’t already put up with enough by enduring all this.

‘Sorry, sir, but it’s way past my bedtime.’ Maybe Chuck’s been bottling up too much sass tonight but she can’t bring herself to really care right now. Not when freedom beckons. ‘Isn’t that right, Dad?'

Herc only sighs at her, as if he isn't just as glad to be getting out of here. Although he exchanges a few last words with the Marshal he's pretty quick to follow her, probably still worried that she might find a way to get herself into trouble.

On her way she gives Mako a wave, having every intention of catching up to her again before they all ship back out. It’ll be nice to have a conversation that doesn’t have to be at all related to this farce, they don’t get as many chances to talk these days as she'd like. And just for the Marshal's look she really has to give her friend another push in the rebellious direction.

Still, she doesn’t bolt out the door like she’s spent much of the night fantasising about. Can't look too eager. While the room’s peaceful now, almost completely devoid of people, a couple of staff are already clearing things away. There’s something about it that echoes of futility, but maybe that’s just down to the fact that she’s tired.

One benefit of having been kept this late is that nobody else is using the lifts, so there’s no waiting around in the lobby at least. Leaning heavily back against the handrail with a sigh, Chuck waits for him to push the button for their floor.

Once the doors are shut she stretches, free to relax and speak openly at last. ‘Let’s never do this again.'

Rather than agreeing like she expects him to, Herc comes over, bracing one hand against the wall while the other strokes slowly up her leg. ‘Never?'

God, she’s been waiting all night for this. But like hell is she going to give in that easily, raising an eyebrow and hoping her blood doesn’t rush to one place all at once. ‘Unless you want to convince me otherwise?'

The words are barely out of her mouth when she feels a finger brush tantalisingly against her cunt. Any attempt at being seductive gets instantly shot through, an unfortunate gasp escaping before Chuck can stop it. ‘Dad!'

He just smirks, utter bastard, and presses a little harder. As if he has every intention of fingering her right here. ‘You asked to be convinced, sweetheart.'

This wasn’t quite what she had in mind, but damn, she can’t really argue with the turn this is taking. They really ought to wait until they’re somewhere a bit more private but now that she’s got his hand on her she doesn’t want to stop. So she cautiously shifts, spreading her legs a little wider to give him better access.

Her hands tighten on the rail, desperately resisting the urge to grab hold of him, as he pushes inside. _Shit..._ Composure be damned, she can’t help rocking her hips, craving more.

Inexplicably still not kissing her, his lips brush against her ear; 'Christ, you’re so perfect.'

If it weren’t for the lift dinging loudly Chuck might have come then and there. Instead, she jolts back, thumping her head against the wall with a wince. ‘Shit.'

‘You okay?’ Switching effortlessly from seductive to concerned, Herc tilts her chin up with wet fingers. Checking she’s not gone and concussed herself again.

Honestly, she’d be a lot better if he’d just kept going, but she can’t say that out loud. Even though the corridor’s dead that doesn’t mean that it’s safe to be doing this here, frustrating as the loss of that friction is.

If it weren't for those open doors she'd kiss him. Instead, Chuck has to make do with straightening herself up as best she can and striding on ahead, keen to get some proper privacy and carry straight on. 'C'mon, you fucking tease.'

Their room isn't that far but it's still further than she'd like. Any delay is to be resented, she's hyper-aware of Herc's proximity and all she wants is for him to be touching her again. It's even more quiet up here, either everyone's asleep or the soundproofing on the rooms is pretty good. She really hopes it's the latter, because otherwise their neighbours might not be in for the best night's sleep.

Chuck barely makes it inside before she's being pushed bodily back against the door as their mouths finally come together. If she'd had any doubts that he's been as frustrated by all this waiting the desperate way he kisses her would put them to rest.

With a quiet hum of approval she pulls him closer still, burning for this. Vaguely she’s aware of the lock clicking into place and the creak as they put more weight on the door. But that's far less important than the way his hands are sliding over her legs, wasting no time in pulling down her briefs.

'Fuck...'

Her hands go to his fly, wanting to return the favour, not least because she can feel how hard he already is. Honestly Chuck's kind of impressed that she's got the coordination to get anywhere with it. Seeing as it’s not made any easier by how damn distracting Herc is, already working at her neck and gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.

Even though having her back pressed into the unyielding door isn’t the most comfortable of positions she doesn’t give a damn. She just wants him to be inside her already. Enough waiting.

Still, Chuck remembers to ask nicely, hoping that he’s turned on enough not to make her really beg for it. Just to improve her chances she gives his cock a light stroke, desperation only fuelled by feeling just how hard he is. ‘ _Please_ , Daddy.'

‘Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good.'

_Yes, that._ Whining low in her throat she pulls him into another kiss, fingers digging hard into his skin. She's shamelessly gagging for it but she doesn't care.

Chuck feels the rip as much as she hears it. Seems like the dress has got a new slit up its side, the tightness having kept it from being as easily pushed up as he'd wanted. Good fucking riddance.

That fixed, Herc gets his arms under her legs and hoists her up. He seems as eager for this as her, sinking into her with a relieved sort of groan. She's already wet enough that he can push in with relative ease.

Neither of them has any interest in going slow right now and she wraps her arms around his shoulders to gain some extra leverage. The pace he sets is unforgiving, fucking her deep and hard just as promised. If anyone were in the corridor they'd probably be getting an earful, because Chuck's not even trying to hold it back.

She was already so worked up that it doesn't take much before she feels herself starting to clench. It's as much a disappointment as a relief when she comes, annoyed that her stamina is suddenly so weak. But that doesn't stop her tightening her grip, not satisfied until he's got off too.

'Come on...' _Come inside me._

Having waited all night seems to have affected Herc's staying power too, it only taking a few more hard thrusts before he's pushing balls deep and coming. Which is almost enough to tip her over the edge again, feeling so full and wanted. _This_ is something they need to do more often. It's not like he isn't territorial enough to get a thrill out of leaving his come inside her.

Panting, sure she now looks like a complete mess, Chuck takes a moment to catch her breath. 'So, you liked the dress then?'

His huff of husky laughter is just stupidly attractive. 'You have no idea.'

Even with an endorphin-flooded system there's no denying the little surge of pride him saying that brings her. 'Oh, I do.'

Pleased, he rewards her with another kiss, softer and slower than before. Now that the urgency has eased they’re free to take their time, basking in the afterglow.

But it’s not the most comfortable position, even if Herc is still doing an admirable job of holding her up. Honestly, she’d like to get properly out of her clothes now, feeling increasingly constricted and itchy. So, reluctantly, she starts to pull away.

‘I should-'

Rather than letting her slide herself back to her feet he tightens his grip. ‘Right, bedtime.'

Chuck lets out a less-than-dignified squeak when he goes ahead and carries her over to the bed. She feels like she should protest being carted around like this, but all the same there’s something kind of satisfying about it.

Although she doesn’t doubt that he has every intention of putting her down gently she messes that up, tugging him so that they flop onto the mattress together in a tangle of limbs. It’s enough to get them kissing again, muffling her embarrassing fit of giggles. Doesn’t entirely solve her problem, though, even if they’re both off their feet at long last.

With some willpower she pushes him back a little, struggling into a sitting position and trying to figure out exactly how to get out of the dress without having to move too much. Suddenly it seems ten times more complicated than before. ‘Gimme a sec, I’ve been in this long enough.'

‘Couldn’t agree more.’ Herc’s quick to offer a helping hand, batting hers away and…

There's definitely more ripping, making it even less likely that she'll ever wear this again. Although she makes a token grumble Chuck barely spares it a glance as her dad tosses it into the corner of the room. Instead, she takes the opportunity to untangle herself from her bra, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘ _Finally_.' Although she still needs to scrub her face clean this is a definite improvement. Particularly when she doesn't much feel like moving, pulling him back down and cuddling closer.

If their whole evening had consisted of this then it would've been a vast improvement.

Happy enough to bed down with her, he strokes fingers across her cheek with one of those soft smiles that makes her insides melt. 'You're so gorgeous.'

Squirming for a different reason now, Chuck feels the heat rising in her face and tries to bury it against his chest. As much as she always wants to make him think that hearing it still leaves her feeling acutely self-conscious.

Refusing to let her get away with that, Herc insistently coaxes her back out. 'Not convinced you yet, have I?'

Maybe he's won her round to the benefits of wearing a dress - only occasionally, that is - but...

'I could be more convinced...'

'Hmm...' Casually, Herc trails a hand across her thigh to rub his fingers against her come-soaked pussy. 'This isn't enough proof?'

Fuck... Chuck bites her cheek to keep from making any more embarrassing noises, because he just isn’t fair, circling her clit and smirking down at her like that. She’s fast going from sated to horny again and it’s clear she’s not the only one.

Lacking any coherent words right now she just shakes her head. They both know exactly where this is going so she might as well play along.

‘Well, I’d better try again then.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that was a... thing... Enjoy?


	41. In Vino Veritas

The murmurs do die back down after that - and the US finally gets to work on the development of the next Jaeger - so she’s willing to admit that it was probably worth suffering through all those hours of tedium. Just as long as she can just ignore the fact that there’s _pictures_. So now anyone who cares to go looking can see what she looks like in a dress and completely out of her element, and Chuck swears some of the techs were sniggering about it. Not that she mentions that to anyone other than Jack, don’t need to be adding paranoia to the list of things the shrink suspects her of.

‘And you’re still taking time out for yourself?'

Maddox asks her the same thing every session. An inability to relax is one of the things they’re meant to be working on. Apparently, it’s symptomatic of her so-called survivor guilt, and yeah, Chuck has to admit that maybe she does have a habit of pushing herself a bit hard sometimes. Except there’s still that niggling itch in the back of her own mind that she hasn’t done enough yet, not with just the one Kaiju kill to her name.

But since the press have backed off a bit Herc's been insistent about keeping up their semi-weekly trips out of the Dome. He might’ve had a harder time convincing her if it weren’t for the fact that it’s good for Max to get outside, making for a convenient cover story. Because even if they’re ostensibly only taking the dog for a proper walk it’s still a kind of de facto date. It might not have ever been said out loud but she knows that’s how he always thinks of it.

‘Yeah.’ She realises she’s probably got a dopey look on her face, thinking about it, and promptly course-corrects. It’s been getting easier to let her guard down around the shrink now that she’s having to make some effort to engage with this whole thing. Though Chuck still fights it whenever she realises she's doing it. ‘I’m relaxing plenty.’

Naturally, despite all their progress, the woman can't not be sceptical. ‘I still think you should consider taking up a hobby… One that doesn’t involve a punching bag.'

_Let’s not go crazy, doc._ She’s got a good balance now, it’s hard to see what knitting or whatever other ridiculous thing the shrink has in mind will do but clog up her time. ‘I’ll think about it, I guess.'

‘It’s not a good idea to focus your entire life on just the Program, that’s all I’m saying. Your ability to pilot is important, yes, but so’s your ability to be healthy.'

Another mini-lecture that’s gotten familiar over the weeks. Sometimes it’s easier to believe that than others; when all she can hear in it is Bauer’s threat. Because being a Ranger is what she’s here for, it’s what she _is_ , she survived to kill Kaiju.

‘Sure.'

The clock ticks over, and that’s the end of it for another day. Maddox likes to stick to a tight schedule, whether that’s down to military habit or something else she hasn’t been able to settle on. Or hell, maybe it’s even for her benefit. Whatever the reason, Chuck’s quite happy to have gotten through one more of these things without incident. Progress, see?

‘Shall we say two weeks' time?'

That’s fine by her, especially when she’s basically already out of the door. While Chuck doesn’t feel quite so uncomfortable in the office as she once did she doesn’t have any need to hang around longer than she has to. Not that Max ever has any problems finding a comfy spot on one of the cushions and conking out for the entire time, only stirring when she whistles for him.

Better still, Herc’s lounging against the wall outside. Like an oasis.

‘Checking up on me?’ Of course, Chuck knows that he trusts her to follow this through, but she's in the mood to tease.

‘I was passing by.’ Perhaps it would be convincing to someone else but his nonchalance is completely see-through to her. Not least because he follows it up with; ‘Come spar with me?'

As if there’s any doubt as to what her answer is. Even if it’s probably a good idea to get out of here before the shrink hears that, just in case she gets any ideas. So long as it’s not excessive then it’s fine, and Herc’s pretty good at calling time and dragging her off to lunch afterwards. Chuck won’t admit it out loud, but she really does appreciate him taking care of her like that.

-

Thirty-odd minutes later and she levels the score with an armlock, clawing back from a couple of weak bouts. She’s good at making comebacks, even if they tend to match up pretty evenly for the most part. But just because all their time Drifting makes it hard for either of them to gain much of an upper hand for long that doesn’t mean it’s not fun to try. Especially when they’re both keeping score.

Predictably, though, once she lets him go he steps back; ‘Alright, that’s enough for today.'

‘Oh, come on.’ Chuck doesn’t bother to hide her disappointment, not least because it could work to help bring him around. Although, failing that, she could always try a more underhanded technique. 'What, don’t want me to beat you?'

And there’s that familiar competitive streak, not letting her down, even as Herc sighs. Though he holds up a hand, making it clear that this is all the concession she’s going to get; ‘One last round.'

One is all she needs.

Wasting no time, she throws the first swing, even though she’s more than ready for another long back and forth. Not least because she’s not in any particular hurry to give up for the day, despite the urge to come out of this on top. Maybe it’s not her favourite sweaty activity anymore but it still gives her a rush and the burn of her muscles is always welcome.

Unfortunately, her dad isn’t on the same wavelength about this right now, quickly moving to pull her in and get her trapped against him. So Herc’s serious about calling it a day, only willing to indulge her so far and Chuck can’t be having that. Really, he’s only bringing this on himself.

Rather than struggling against his arm she pushes back instead, totally not grinding against him in the process. It’s not her fault if the adrenaline makes it so easy to get turned on. The move catches him enough by surprise that his grip loosens just the smallest bit, leaving her free to slip out and spin away.

Not that Chuck gets long to congratulate herself, barely registering the movement before her legs get taken out from under her. Again.

Getting the breath knocked out of her lungs really isn’t the best turn out, but that’s quickly remedied when he gets down and straddles her. For good measure he pins her arms, just like she wraps her legs around him to give herself better leverage.

‘What was that about beating me?'

‘I’m quite happy here.’ Which is true, yes, but at the same time she still has every intention of lulling him into a false sense of victory and turning the tables at the first opportunity. Might have to kiss him first, though, just to make sure he’s properly distracted.

Quite how much of her plan he can guess is up for debate, but they are compatible for a reason. So it’s probably no coincidence that Herc happens to tighten his grip even when he shifts into a more intimate position. ‘Oh really?'

‘Absolutely.'

Their lips have barely brushed when Max barks. On reflex she pushes him away as fast as she can, although Herc doesn’t move to get off her just yet, no doubt aiming to make it seem like the position they’re in isn’t guilty at all. If anything he seems even less inclined to let her out from under him once he spots the source of the commotion because he’s still terrible at backing off when a certain tech is concerned.

Even though Jack's crouched to give the insistent bulldog a pet there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s not happy right now. That frown of his feels a bit too suspicious. And her dad is not making it any better.

Rather than let him have the chance to overthink the scene he’s walked in on, Chuck manages to get herself at least partway up. ‘Hey, I was about to come looking for you.'

‘Sure you were.’ He shoots one last glare at her dad, dislike written all over his face, before proceeding to act like it’s only the two of them in here. ‘How was it today?'

‘Fine, just more of the usual.’ While she might be trying to placate her friend she doesn’t really want to have a whole conversation as if Herc isn’t still right here. For fuck’s sake, he needs to just spell out his goddamn problem and get over it already. ‘Look, give me a minute to shower and then I’ll be all yours.'

That seems to do the trick, Jack visibly perking up at the promise. ‘Better hurry, I’ve got something amazing to show you.'

‘Can’t wait.' Really it could go either way, knowing him, but that’s beside the point right now. Distraction, that’s the name of the game.

Fortunately, Max can stay behind while she hits the showers, she’s never quite sure about leaving him in the changing room. It’s not that Chuck doesn’t trust everyone else in the Shatterdome - though she doesn't - it’s more that she's all too aware of the trouble he could get himself into. Plus, the bulldog’s a great way to keep Jack occupied and not thinking too much.

More often than not these showers are empty and today is no exception, considering that most people who are on break are in the mess hall at this time of day. So there’s no-one to notice that Herc ends up following her into the wrong side. After a slight hesitation to make sure that the coast is definitely clear, of course.

Not so long ago she wouldn’t have dreamed of letting this happen. But… she’s still kind of turned on from their time on the mats and there’s nothing to say they’re doing anything wrong. Yet.

Only a step behind her, Herc's disgruntled mutter is unmissable; 'That boy has awful timing.'

There's not much arguing with that; Jack does have the uncanny tendency of turning up when they're in the middle of something. Maybe it's just down to the fact that they tempt fate far too much when they're alone, but it's still kind of frustrating. Everything would be so much easier if they didn't have to worry about being found out.

'He's just keeping us on our toes.'

That earns her a derisive snort, his thoughts on the matter as clear as ever. Not that Herc would ever push her to distance herself from the tech, despite the vague whiffs of the thought she's caught in the Drift.

Intending to placate him, Chuck latches onto his Henley and tugs him back into a more sheltered part of the room. Any extra privacy doesn't hurt, as much as it sometimes feels like he wants to make it even clearer that she's off limits. He doesn't resist, happy enough to push her up against the wall and get right back into her personal space.

Arching up, closing the gap that little bit more, she lowers her voice, less out of concern for being overheard and more for the sake of the mood. Just to up the ante, she lets one hand slide down, pressing featherlight against the telltale bulge in his slacks. 'Don't get jealous, Daddy.'

'Who says I'm jealous?' If it wasn't for the way he accompanied it with a squeeze of her ass she might've laughed at that because _seriously?_ 'You know where you belong.'

His assurance is well-founded, but they both know damn well that he's got a possessive streak a mile wide whenever the tech is concerned. It's one of those traits Chuck can admit that she'd definitely inherited, so she doesn't really care to complain. So long as he doesn't go overboard it's good, extra reassurance of how deep his feelings run.

She can't help kissing him, only having gotten more squirmy with want. Unlike the all-too-brief press of lips out on the mats this is a much more satisfying experience, all that pent up desire pouring into it. Once he takes control it turns more demanding, making her melt into him with a moan. It's a relief, even though she's been made to wait far longer before this.

As fast as the satisfaction comes, though, it's taken away just as abruptly as Herc pulls away. On reflex she reaches after him, missing the contact, thoughts caught up on the need for more. Especially once a quick glance around tells her that they're still very much on their own in here.

Chuck whines, feeling even more hard done this time around when she can't see any reason at all for them to be stopping.

Rather than explaining himself or - better yet - getting back to the making out Herc leaves her with nothing more than a pat. Far too smug, as if he isn't leaving himself just as worked up as her. 'Enjoy your shower.'

Bastard.

-

‘I swear you’re all working together.’ Nico examines the table with exaggerated incredulity. Although maybe it’s not put on, considering that the LOCCENT Controller hasn’t managed to win a single hand tonight.

‘You’re just bad at rummy, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ Gathering the cards up for a fresh shuffle, Winchester delivers the verdict with just the right amount of sass to push her up a little more in Chuck’s estimation.

While playing cards against each other apparently started out as a Ranger thing the tradition has since started to expand to include a couple of other members of the Dome’s major support staff. It’s nice, even if some people put up more of a challenge than others.

‘We could switch to snap, if you'd rather?’ It probably comes out a little more snippy than it should but Chuck can't resist digging the knife in a bit deeper.

For a split second it seems like the man might let his usual chipper mood slide further and swear. But Nico is smart enough to realise that he’d only be picking a fight he would inevitably lose. ‘Ha, just play me at Magic and we’ll see who’s bad at card games.'

As if that’s ever going to happen. Particularly seeing as having a serial loser around only really works in the favour of the rest of them. Everyone else at this table is too invested in their ongoing tally to go entertaining ideas like that, that and Kaia would never agree to playing something she doesn’t have at least a strong chance of winning.

Herc's foot rubs against hers under the table, which definitely wouldn’t do anything to discourage the idea that they’re cheating if anyone else noticed it. Still, it has the intended effect, and she brushes back with a sly smile.

Even though she’s still got no intention of taking any prisoners her mood's a lot better than it was earlier, having had a chance to mellow. Some of the other techs - from both Striker and Vulcan - have taken Jack out on the town for his birthday, and she was very specifically not invited. Of course, she's still considered underage so it was never going to work anyway, and she's not exactly _pally_ with more than a handful of people in the Dome. But it still stung.

She's never been big on birthdays but for his last one they'd pilfered a six pack of beer and spent the afternoon hiding out in the park. Both of them had gotten a load of shit afterwards but it'd been worth it. For all that she'd been desperate to get out of there, Chuck still has moments that she misses bits of those days.

On reflection, though, she can admit that it’s probably good for her to sit the evening out. Admittedly the girlfriend shit has been coming up less lately but it still wouldn’t hurt for him to take the opportunity to get out there and meet someone. Maybe make out with them in front of some witnesses to put that stupid thing to rest once and for all. It'd be good for him.

Seeing as it’s pretty late in the evening now there’s not many others hanging around the mess hall, anyone else still up and on break is more likely to be holed up in one of the rec rooms instead. The occasional person wanders in to use the coffee machine but other than that it’s pretty dead, even the kitchen staff seem to have long since checked out. Quiet, peaceful, exactly the sort of evening the shrink would approve of.

Aside from how high tensions can flare over the game, that is. One way or another the group just can’t seem to manage more than a couple of hands before some new disagreement or another breaks out. Though not because anyone notices what the two of them are doing underneath the table, this time.

Waiting until the end of the next hand, Chuck slides off the bench and raises her empty mug by way of explanation; ‘Anyone else want a refill?'

It’s a chorus of polite negatives - either they’ve already got plenty left or have no intention of having more tonight - seeing as it’s getting towards the point where they should start turning in for the night. Probably a wise idea, but if she wants to eek out another win before the end of play then she needs one last dose of caffeine.

Before Chuck goes, though, she takes the excuse to trail a hand across Herc's back and lean in conspiratorially. ‘Make sure no-one looks at my cards.’

Finding her way over to the coffee supply is almost second nature, she’s taken this same route many times over. God help them if coffee ever goes on ration, at least half the Dome runs on the stuff. But that’s what you get when you have to have at least a skeleton crew active around the clock; a bunch of caffeine addicts.

It doesn’t take her long to get a refill - quick enough to get back to her seat before the cards are fully dealt and she has to worry about whether Herc snuck a look or not - but then who should walk in but Jack. Although he looks a little bit the worse for wear - even if he never seems to do anything other than messy with his hair - the tech is moving in a surprisingly sober way. So either his alcohol tolerance has gotten a hell of a lot better or somebody didn’t go quite as wild as he was planning.

‘Hey, girlfriend.’ It’s questionable whether it’s her or the coffee machine he’s come over to see, though there’s a bit of a slur to his words that suggests he hasn’t been too much of a buzzkill after all.

With just a quick glance in the direction of the table, Chuck turns to focus more fully on her friend. Unless he’s completely sloshed it’s only fair to stick around for a minute. ‘Hey, wasn’t expecting to see you this side of the morning.'

‘Nah, I needed me some caffeine first. Take the edge off.'

Judging by the way he necks it like a shot he’s maybe using a bit of a loose definition of the word ‘some’. If he burnt his throat pulling that Jack doesn’t let on, his wince possibly as much to do with the impending hangover as the heat of the coffee. Chuck wonders why he’s been allowed to wander loose, hoping that at least one of his drinking buddies might come by to get him safely back to his quarters.

In the meantime, best not to kill his mood. ‘Good night then?’

‘Could’ve been better, you know?’ He glances at her, then goes back to staring at the bottom of his cup like he’s just waiting for it to fill itself back up again. ‘But you don’t, do you?'

Shit. She hadn't missed how weirdly moody he can get when he drinks. It’s like navigating a minefield blindfolded while someone shouts directions in a foreign language. So long as she’s patient it should be okay, though, even if she's out of practice. ‘Don’t what?'

‘You don’t _know_. Unless it has an engine or is a couple hundred feet tall… You’re really blind sometimes, hot-stuff.'

If Jack didn’t sound quite so unhappy it’d be a lot easier to take that to heart. At least he’s not being too loud about it, even if she doesn’t have to look to know that they’re being watched.

‘All these years and you still don’t see it. And what’s funny… what’s _really_ funny is that everyone else can.’ His laugh is loud and mirthless; clearly he’s more gone than he’d seemed at first. ‘How obvious does it have to be, huh?'

Who thought it was a good idea to leave him to himself? They’d better not cross her path anytime soon; anyone who’s spent enough time around Jack should know what he gets like when he goes over his limit. Oh well, they’re not here and she is. If nobody turns up in the next five minutes then she’ll have to take charge and get him back to his room to sleep this off.

Problem is that Chuck’s not sure how to pacify him when the subject of his ramblings is _her_ , especially when he seems to expect this to be some sort of proper conversation. Besides, he was always better at looking after her than the other way around.

Sending up a silent prayer for help, she settles for rubbing his back. Keep it quiet and gentle. ‘I don’t know, you tell me.'

‘Left it too long. Much too long.’ Shaking his head, Jack rounds on her, switching seamlessly from dejected to aggressive. ‘I’m one to talk, I was pretty fucking blind too, wasn’t I?'

She’s not intimidated, regardless of the couple of inches he still has on her, just concerned. If he’s in a mood with her then it’s going to be near impossible to get him to cooperate long enough to see him back to his room. Usually he’s not quite this volatile.

‘Don’t know about blind, but you’re-'

Chuck honestly doesn’t see it coming. One moment the tech is bristling with unexplained fury and the next his mouth is crashing into hers. Jack may have the height going for him but she’s stronger, shoving him off the instant her brain catches up.

‘ _The hell?_ ’ Her voice cracks unpleasantly; angry, upset and confused all at once. Just how much had he had to drink tonight?

‘Wanted to do that for years.’ It's not much of an explanation but his mind quickly wanders, unsure smile hardening into a dark frown. ‘I've been here all this time… Why _him?_ ’

And she thought her blood was running cold before. This time Chuck knows exactly what he means, even though she really wishes she didn’t. Shit. Maybe the thought will be gone once he sobers up but right now he _knows_.

‘You’re talking shit.'

‘ _No_ , don’t you dare pull that on me now!’ The anger comes back in a rush, although it’s hard to guess what she could’ve said that would’ve made this any better. 'Don't pretend he's not using you!'

He steps closer and she instinctively steps back, only to find that she's gone and cornered herself. A weird sort of nausea is keeping any words stuck in her throat, because this is rapidly spiralling out of control. Saying nothing only makes it more incriminating, though, and shit, there is no way that the rest of the room isn’t hearing this...

‘It’s not-'

‘God, you’re so fucking _stupid!_ '

Chuck’s been called a lot of things - and her skin's gotten thicker than it once was - but she can’t help flinching at that.

Almost instantly Jack’s jerked back a few steps, giving her space to breathe, as Herc plants himself in between them. ‘Back off.'

While she’s gladder than she’d like to admit to see him, the fact is that him getting involved right now is possibly the worst idea going. Getting a hand on his arm, Chuck tries to abort the protective instinct before it gets them all into an even worse situation. ‘Dad, leave it…'

It’s no use. Not with the way that Jack is glowering at him, clearly ready for a fight in spite of the fact that he’s never going to win. Especially seeing as he’s not even got the benefit of being sober.

‘What? You’ve not screwed her up enough yet?'

Hands curling tighter into fists, he breathes deeply, not backing down but holding back all the same. ‘Don't test me, boy.'

Fortunately the others aren’t just sitting back and watching the show, Lucas getting an ostensibly steadying arm around the tech’s shoulders and breaking the intensifying stare-down.

‘Time for you to sleep this off, I think.’ Vulcan's secondary pilot leaves no room for a response and promptly starts to shepherd Jack off, a very strong grip hidden behind his mild manners.

That doesn’t stop Herc glaring, though, so she reaches up and makes him look at her instead. ‘He’s just drunk, leave it. Please.'

Just as she'd hoped, that does the trick. His protective instinct cuts through the anger, him pulling her closer as if to check for damage. 'Are you okay?'

Aside from being a bit freaked out, yeah, she’s fine. It’s probably a good thing after all that she hadn’t been able to hit the bars herself, even if a drink might help to steady her nerves. Of course, she hadn’t been careful enough, and now...

‘I know you’re fucking her, dickhead!’

Maybe it's just that he yells it at the top of his lungs but the truth seems deafening out loud.

For someone without training, Jack does a surprisingly good job of slipping out of Lucas’ grip. Who knows, maybe whatever he’s been drinking tonight gave him a burst of strength. That or he’s just more slippery like this. Whatever the reason, he tosses the last of his common sense out the window and throws himself right back into the fight that he’s instigating.

‘ _Real_ convenient you remembered her as soon as she got fuckable, is-'

Jack hits the floor with a thud, the punch too hard and fast for him to have had any hope of dodging. Too little too late, Chuck bodily pushes Herc back out of range, hoping to at least keep him from going in for a second shot. Not that he struggles against her, already satisfied. It's not really a surprise that it's come to this, she knows he's been itching to knock the tech down a peg for a long time, but she really wishes it hadn't.

Struggling to sit up, Jack groans, blood streaming from his nose. It looks broken, crooked, and it's clear he's going to have some serious bruising in the morning. Although he's still managing to glare from behind his hands all the fight seems to have gone out of him with that one blow. Shit.

And just when she thought it couldn't get any worse the all-too-familiar voice of the Commander breaks the uncomfortable silence; ‘What the _hell_ is going on in here?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, meet fan.
> 
> It's been a while since I left you with a cliffhanger so I thought we'd better fix that ;)


End file.
